239) What Does April 24th Mean To This Ethnic Armenian? & In The Midst Of War — A Letter And A True Love Story -Edward Tashji

Commentary by Edward Tashji

 

What Does April 24th Mean To This Ethnic Armenian? 

It is inconceivable to this writer that there could be a single person of Turkish background who is unaware of the significance of this date. Once again the American media in numerous states around the country have given time and space to the rantings and rhetorical diatribes of those purveyors of hatred who proclaim to honor the memory of innocent victims of war. Once again the Armenian “hate merchants� have taken center stage and politicians are racing to join their wealthy supporters in their annual anti-Turkish demonstrations.

 

I vehemently condemn this ubiquitous anti-Turkish ritual not because it mourns the victims of war, but rather because the Armenians profess to remember the victims of a mythical “genocide.� Some day, in the near future, I shall attempt to reveal in depth to the reader, my reasons for not accepting the Armenian perversion of the events of 1915 Ottoman Turkey; it might require two articles however. Each year as the month of April approaches, my mind and heart become filled with the memories of my youth and the educational stories which had been related to me by my parents. These memories have become an integral part of my life for each day I live, but during the month of April, the monster of animosity becomes visible and the chorus of hatred darkens my soul. During a season of renewal and hope, we are immersed in evil.

 

But why?! I had been taught that our peoples, the Armenians and the Syrian-Orthodox, had suffered — fact. But a World War caused the intolerable suffering of all peoples — Christian, Jew, and Muslim. in Ottoman Turkey. That indelible pain remains within us, but WHY must the venom of hate continue to cripple young minds eighty-three years after the horrific war? It is convenient for this country to support the Armenian allegations against the Turkish Nation in spite of Turkey’s long standing alliance with the United States. But, to be cognizant of Armenian treachery and twenty-five years of rebellion in Ottoman Turkey, and witness the dastardly activities of those who profess to be faithful Christians, is for me intolerable. April 24th should also signify the transition from hate to compassion, from pain to healing, from division to reunion. Who is it that says this is an impossibility, the Turk or the Armenian?! On April 24th or on any other day, we have the choice of raising our hands with the banners of hate or the gesture of a handshake. Who is that says this writer is hallucinating, the Turk or the Armenian?! God has given each of us the power and capacity to follow His teachings and build temples of love. Again I ask, who is it that says this philosophy is void of all logic, the Turk or the Armenian? To each question, it is manifestly, the latter.

 

When the seed of hate is planted can we expect anything other than a new growth of intolerance and animus? During my childhood I was taught my history by parents who had endured the ravages of war, and yet how is it that I bring the honor of their name to this newspaper? Because they had possessed the rare quality of compassion and the intellectual integrity to admit our (the Armenian) initiation of the hostilities which had created divisive suspicion and deplorable human suffering. Their honest interpretations found guilt and suffering on both sides, and concluded with the eventual restoration of peace, harmony, and brotherhood among our peoples. In all logic my beloved wife (an ethnic Armenian) and I CAN NOT hate a people and a nation with whom we share over six centuries of cultural and historical affiliation. In addition to this inescapable fact, I am convinced we are indebted to the Turkish people for the continuation of this mutual history to the present times in the Republic of Turkey.

 

Another April 24th has passed and the “hate merchants� surrounded by their clergy (!), and American politicians, have presented another shameful display of their specious campaign to distort history while defaming the honor of a great nation. How are we to respond to the allegations of the Armenians? How can we hope to reach the attention of Americans with the Turkish perspective? Most assuredly, it is an extremely difficult task, but it is not impossible! In 1982, this writer had prepared a ten page program on what we (the Turkish-American community) must and can do to reverse the tide of anti-Turkish sentiment in our country. In a future offering I shall attempt to introduce our program to the readers of the Turkish Times.

 

The most damning evil is the perpetuation of animosity. That succeeding generations will inherit a legacy of hatred defies all comprehension. While the nations of the world we on the brink of annihilating all mankind with its arsenal of nuclear weapons; we must strive to achieve understanding and harmony. I have grown weary of the disease of hate, and my primary concern before my God — yes, even as the sinner I am — continues to be what have I done to make this a better world for today’s children. Why is hatred so desirable for some people?

 

Dear reader, I believe this is the twelfth time we have "met� here in this column, and for the first time the writer has not been able to include an attempt at humor. This is the curse of April 24th in my heart. But I will not permit hatred to overcome my God-given desire to seek love and peace among all peoples! With this conviction I offer the reader a true narration of a love story!! The factual account of how my beloved patents had met the first time will be described here, when next we “meet.� They had met in the hell of war. but their destiny joined them as husband and wife and brought them to the United States. In spite of April 24th, our work continues....

 

 

Edward Tashji

I am Called: "Turk Dostu" — A "Friend of Turks"

The Turkish Times

May 1, 1998

 

************************************

 

In The Midst Of War — A Letter And A True Love Story 

(Writer’s note): What is entered in this offering is based upon information supplied by the parents of this writer. Much of the factual events are missing, but I have remained faithful to their story by including only the narrative they have given me. There are no fictitious additions or descriptions whatsoever! Also needed to be mentioned here: For years we have been urged to prepare an autobiography revealing a most unique story beginning in Ottoman Turkey, extending to the closing chapter of the author’s life. This effort has begun and within its compilation the following subject will be included. I am pleased to offer it here to the readers of The Turkish Times.

 

Of what possible value would it serve to describe here the events of war as seen through the eyes of my beloved parents? No description is necessary, as graphic images are available to us everywhere; Those who have a morbid desire for depiction of human suffering will not find it in the columns of this newspaper. It is however, pertinent to the content of this article to reveal that it was a result of war which separated my mother from her place of birth, Balikesir, and her destiny brought her to the town of Kilis, in Southeastern Turkey. As a young, beautiful girl left homeless, she was taken into the home of an Armenian family who were living in their own home, in Kilis! And the word, “genocide� is incessantly used by pseudo-intellectuals; how pathetic!

 

The home which welcomed my mother had a grown unmarried son and daughter in the family. Their hope had been that my mother would wed their son; quite proper, but alas, destiny had other designs for her. One day my mother, whose name then was Zabel Tashjian, (English spelling), was sitting on a garden bench with her prospective “sister-in-law,� while holding a letter which she had just received from her brother in Balikesir. As joyful as she was, she became distraught because neither she nor the family were able to read the letter, as it had been written in the Armenian language. — At this point I must digress because an important fact needs to be explained: among the many distortions of Turkish history is the assertion that the Armenians were not permitted to speak or write in Armenian — FALSE! Every ethnic Armenian who had gone to Armenian schools learned to speak and write in Armenian; those who did not, spoke in the language of the land. Same as this or any other country, wouldn’t you agree? Now, let us return to the garden....

 

While my mother had been noticeably sad, on the verge of tears, suddenly on a near-by path the girls observed two young handsome Ottoman officers approach, bowed their heads with a smile directed towards the young women, and slowly passed by. The girls looked at each other and with excitement each said: “WHO are they?!!� The letter fell down to the ground as each girl made a mental review of what they had just seen: Tall and good-looking men in striking military uniforms indicating they were officers. On their youthful heads each had worn the “Kalpak� (an Ottoman military headgear shaped like a fez, but made of fur). Around their slim waists were gold sashes from which on the left side, encased in silver, long swords were attached. But how would it be possible to make an acquaintance with the officers, with social customs of that period? And their being Muslim might create another “problem.� But destiny has prearranged these events, as it was learned they were both of “Suryani� (Syrian Orthodox) background. (Christian officers in the Ottoman army? Of course!) By mutual friends an introduction was arranged between the more handsome of the officers, and my mother. The young officer, with piercing eyes, and a slim trimmed mustache, was educated, he was a linguist and one of the languages he spoke and wrote was Armenian! Then that magical day had arrived, the beautiful girl and the Ottoman officer sat on the bench, near each other, and as her eyes tried in vain not to look into his face, she passed the letter to him. Without hesitation the letter had been translated, and what followed was the romance of poetry.

 

Yes, dear, reader, the girl with the letter was my mother, and the Ottoman officer was my beloved father!!! In my den, on a wall, hangs the pictures of my parents each as they were when they first had met. Many Turks having seen the painted photograph, have said it resembles a picture of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk! No Hollywood production could depict the scene which I have attempted to portray above. Though much is missing, I have been blessed, honored, and privileged, to have been given their story as their legacy to me. A chance meeting brought them together, they fell in love, married, and began to build a life from the devastation of war. Their true story eventually brought them to America penniless and without family or friends. They worked tirelessly, sacrificed, had two sons, became home owners, and carried on the culture and the love for their former “anavatan� (motherland), in their adopted homeland. Similar to millions of other stories, with one major distinction: innocent minds and hearts were taught our history totally void of any ill-feeling toward the land and the people of my cultural origin!

 

Within my previous article, I had promised you a love story. I am proud to have introduced to you a son and daughter of Anadolu, and I know they smile upon their son in maintaining their love for Turkey and her people. Until we “meet� again, our humble work continues....

 

 

Edward Tashji

I am Called: "Turk Dostu" — A "Friend of Turks"

The Turkish Times

May 15, 1998

----------------------------------------------------------
© Holdwater 

tallarmeniantale.com/tashji-april24.htm

                            tashji-lovestory.htm

----------------------------------------------------------