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Die, You Pig, Die
Story of an Armenian Girl (Part seven)
by Serpouhi Tavoukdjian
I cannot describe the horror of those weeks on the river bank
alone. It was like a dreadful nightmare, for, you see, I did not
die, as they expected, even though I was desperately ill. Every
day, as the wives went out to work in the fields, they came to
look at me, often accompanied by others from the village. And
they all beat me with sticks and stoned me. Every time they
struck me, they cried, "Die, you pig, die." I can feel
those sharp, cruel stones yet, as they hit me, and it makes me
shudder.
I had a mattress on which to lie, and a blanket for covering,
but they gave me no food save a piece of hard black bread, which
they threw to me after my daily stoning and beating. I could not
eat it, and sometimes I had not strength even to reach out and
pick it up. But the pieces I could secure, I hid under my
mattress. Such a pile as I had in time! If I wanted water, I
must crawl to the river and drink from the stream. That I might
talk with my heavenly Father was my only comfort.
The fever made me very thirsty, of course. And my knees
because so cut and bruised from crawling over the stones to the
water that I could not bear to have anything touch them. Also my
body was cut and bleeding in many places because of the stones
and sticks that struck me. My eyes were very much swollen, and
finally I became blind. Also, the skin all over me turned black,
and my hair was matted and full of vermin. Still the wives and
their friends came to torment me. Not one person showed me
kindness.
Then one morning I heard them talking. Before this I could
understand very little Arabian, but now-it was strange but
true-I knew every word they spoke.
"Let us shoot her tomorrow," they said.
"Oh no!" I screamed, as I sat with my swollen,
misshapen body humped under the shelter. "Please do not
shoot me. Just leave me alone. I will die-I promise!"
And so they went away.
The tears rolled out of my poor blind eyes, and down my
wasted cheeks. I tried to pray, but it seemed that God must
surely have forgotten me. I decided that I could once more crawl
down to the river and there drown myself. It was a slow, painful
journey, but finally I arrived.
As I put my face down in the cool water, there came to my
mind the commandment, "Thou shalt not kill." Quickly I
raised up, for it seemed as if some one had spoken. I listened.
There was no sound save the soft rippling of the river as it
flowed.
Then I thought once more of the wives and what they would
surely do to me if I was not dead tomorrow. And once more I put
my face under water to end my misery. But again I heard the
voice saying, "Thou shalt not kill. And I raised my head
and burst into tears.
"O dear God," I cried aloud, "I do not want to
die, but how can I live? I cannot drown myself, but won't you
please let me go to sleep and not wake up again, or else make me
well, so I can go away from here?"
And then I felt a strange, sweet peace. He would do for me
what was best. After I had rested awhile, I managed to get back
to my shelter.
Another day the wives came with some of the village people,
and I heard them say there were going to bury me alive. To these
Mohammedans it was no sin to put me out of my misery. Was I not,
after all, only an Armenian Christian? As they began to dig the
grave, I screamed and begged them:
"Please, oh, please, do not do that to me. I will die, I
really will."
Finally, as I screamed and pleaded they threw many stones at
me, so that I was badly bruised. Then they went away and left
me. Of course I was very weak. But I prayed for strength, and at
last got back to my bed. How thankful I was to my Father in
heaven. I knew that only He could have rescued me.
But after I thanked Him for sparing me this further
suffering, I asked Him why He had not let me die with my mother
and brothers and sisters on the march. Then there came into my
mind the words father had often spoken as we gathered for
worship in our dear home in Ovajik. "God," he told us,
"brings no experience but what is for our good. He has a
purpose in all He does, even though we may not see it." And
when I thought of that, I was content to be patient.
It was a wild spot where I was, and often at night the wild
animals would come so near that I could feel their breath and
put my hand on their fur, but they did not harm me, and I was
not afraid of them. I feared only what human being might do to
me.
How long was I there by the river? Really, I do not know. It
seemed a year, though, of course, it was not. Then one day I
heard a quick step coming toward me. I could not see, but
instinctively I knew it was Allel Moose. He stooped down and
looked at m. Then I heard an exclamation. Then I heard his kind
voice say, "Little Helema, who did this to you?"
"Your wives did it," I sobbed, "and, O master,
take me away from here before I die."
I heard his feet hurrying away, and burst into tears of utter
despair, for had not he too left me? But soon I heard his step
returning. Again he bent over me.
"Helema," he said, "can you see this stick?'
"No, master," I answered, "my eyes do not
see."
"Feel it, then, Helema," and he took my hands, and
I knew it was a big stick.
He said, "I am going now to beat Asha and Sada just as
they have beaten you."
I begged him not to leave me, but he patted my shoulder and
said, "Do not be afraid any more, my Helema. You will be
all right." His voice was so kind.
After a while I heard him coming back. He was not alone, and
I was frightened. What if he had brought the wives? I knew they
would be very angry that I had told on them. What would they do
to me? But it was his sister with him. She was a widow, had one
son, and lived in a smaller house neat us. She had with her a
large kettle of hot water and scouring soap and other things.
She was very sorry when she saw me. She shaved my head. Every
curl was gone. Then she scrubbed it clean. "Now," she
said, "you will have Arab hair." Then she took away my
clothes, and Allel Moose burned them while she scrubbed me hard
with something rough. The black skin peeled off just like a
shell under the strenuous rubbing, and she said as she scrubbed,
"No you have new skin-Arab skin."
When she had finished, once more I was clean! clean! clean!
There were no more lice-not one. She rolled my poor, bruised
body in a blanket, and Allel Moose tenderly carried me home and
left me there while he went away with his sister to arrange a
place at her house where I could stay until I was well.
The wives were not glad to see me. They had not enjoyed their
beating. They were very angry that I had told about their bad
treatment of me. Now the moment we were alone, they got sticks
and whipped me again, and they said, "If you tell on us
this time, we will beat you to death when next we have a
chance."
I cried and cried and begged them to stop, but they were too
angry, and kept on until we heard the footsteps of Allel Moose
returning. Then they stopped in a hurry and hid their sticks.
And I closed up my mouth tightly and said not a word.
My master carried me to his sister's house, and she was very
kind to me. Every day he came to see me and brought me fresh
cow's milk to drink. After a while I could stand, and then step
by step I had to learn to walk just like a baby. Then one day I
could see again. For a long time, however, my body was swollen
and misshapen, the abdomen being much distended from starvation
and from eating grass for so long. But after a while this too
passed away, and I was plump and rosy and full of life.
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