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Part 1
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RESCUED
Story of an Armenian Girl (Part nine)
by Serpouhi Tavoukdjian
Soon after this, Allel Moose went away on another business
trip. It was his last journey. While in a distant city, he was
stricken with a heart attack, and died suddenly. Only his
merchant friends were with him at the last, and when they
brought us word of his death, they said he had talked about his
little Helema all the while after he was stricken. He left with
them instructions that his brother should take me and care for
me when he was gone.
When the news of my father's death came to our home, the
wives all gathered at this main house and beat their breasts and
wailed and pulled out handfuls of their hair and also cut off my
curls as a sign of mourning. The day after this, my uncle came
and did his best to comfort me for my great loss.
"Just think, Helema," he said, "my brother did
not mention his wives, nor leave any message for me except that
I should take care of you even as my own daughter." He told
me that half the estate was mine and half his, and if I would
come to him as my father had directed, he would make me his sole
heir, since his wives were childless. I was very glad to go to
his home.
The wives of my father, Asha and Sada, now took their
personal effects and departed to their own people. They cried as
they packed their simple treasures, and wanted me to go with
them. They promised to be always good to me if I would do this.
The other two wives also returned to their people. Soon all four
of them married again.
We spent several days packing up the things in the house, and
getting the flocks and herds together. I remember how the
servants my uncle had brought with him loaded the camels with
our household effects, and finally the long caravan started for
his home and Bazor in the desert. While he had a house for the
rainy season, during the tie his flocks and herds were in
pasture he lived in a large tent made of camel and goat hair. It
was to this tent house that he now took me. His two wives
welcomed me and were very kind to me. Here my days passed much
as they had in the old home. I had the care of the lambs and
kids, and lived a happy, carefree life.
I had been in my uncle's home for about six months when as I
cam e near the tent house one day, returning from feeding my
small charges, I saw horses tied and people gathered, and knew
that something was wrong. The wives saw me coming, and motioned
me to enter the tent the back way, as the company was in what
you would call our sitting room or front yard. They told me that
Turkish soldiers had come again for me, and begged me not to go
away and leave them.
Really, I did not wish to go with the soldiers, much as I
wanted to see my own father. I was afraid of what the Turks
would do to me when I was again in their power. My uncle was
away from home on business, so his head wife spoke for me. She
offered the men money to go away and leave me alone. This time,
however, the soldiers could not be bought. They said I must
come, that the government demanded my return, and had sent them
to get me.
How did they know where I was? The Armenian soldier who had
first found me and represented himself as my brother, had been
much disturbed when he was told that his "sister" had
run away. He reported to my cousin, whom he knew, and this
relative at once set out in search for me. He did not find me,
but he did find his own sister, who had also been sold into
Arabia. While rescuing her he heard of my whereabouts. Returning
to Aleppo, he at once reported to the government, and also told
an Armenian soldier friend who had lived in my home town of
Ovajik. Hence the soldiers.
I felt very much frightened when I knew that I really must
leave my dear uncle and his wives and my pleasant home, and go
with these Turkish soldiers. We all cried. One of my uncle's
friends, a neighbor, happened to be calling on us when the
soldiers arrived. He stayed to see if he could help. Now he came
and took my hand and said, "Helema, do not be afraid. I
will go with you to the government office and see that
everything is all right. You do not have to go alone." And
so he put me on his own donkey, and we followed the soldiers.
They guided us to Abulkemal, quite a large town, about a
day's journey distant. This was the place where at that very
moment my uncle was on one of his business trips. When we
arrived there, Onnig Chamechickian, the young Armenian soldier
from my home town, was waiting for me.
In my sorrow and distress at leaving my good Arab friends in
the desert, and also because I was required to go quickly with
the Turkish guard, I did not think of taking any of my personal
belongings. I had only the clothes I was wearing-a simple
Arabian house dress-in which to appear before strangers in the
government office. The Armenian soldier, Onnig, wished us to go
to the officials at once, but this good neighbor who had come
with me, took me instead to the home of one of his friends,
where I would be safe and protected, and then went to find my
Arabian uncle and tell him what had happened.
While he was absent on this errand, Onnig sent his real
sister to see me. She came dressed in Turkish costume, with a
veil covering her face, for she was married to a Mohammedan-a
Kurd, I think. When she saw me, she cried out, "Serpouhi!
It is indeed she!"
I had not heard my Armenian name spoken for so long that it
startled me. I could not see her features, and my heart almost
stopped beating as I wondered if this could possibly be my
mother or one of my own sisters escaped from death. Then she
began to tell me about my family and home in Ovajik. She
mentioned the dear family names, and told little incidents of
our home and business life. I found that she also had been our
close neighbor, but, as was the case with her brother, she was
so much older that, being only a little girl in those days, I
did not remember her at all.
She visited for a while, and then her brother came into the
room and told me I must now go with him to the government
office. There were many soldiers standing all about outside the
room where the officials sat. When I came inside, they closed
the door and asked me so many questions, and demanded to know if
I wished to go to my own father, Aaron Tavoukdjian. All of the
questions save one I answered by saying simply, "I do not
know." But I told them I did wish to go to my father very
much indeed. They said this would be arranged. Then, because
Onnig Chamechickian had represented himself as my brother, they
placed me in his care.
When we left the government office and returned to the house
from which we had gone, I found there my Arabian uncle. He
begged me not to go and leave him. It was very hard, but while I
loved him very much-even more than my Arabian father, if that
could be-still the call of my own flesh and blood was strongest.
So I told him that I had just come from the officials, and that
they were arranging for me to go to Aleppo very soon, and from
there to find my own real father. He was very sorry, but when he
could not persuade me, he cried and gave me all the money he had
with him for the journey. Then I kissed his hand in farewell, as
is the custom there.
Before night, Onnig Chamechickian took me to the home of his
own sister, saying I should stay there until we were ready to go
to Aleppo. We were to wait for other Armenian girls who were
being taken from Arab homes and would go with us. My heart beat
high with hope.
But I waited and waited, ad still we were not ready to start.
I did not wish to stay longer as a guest in the home on Onnig's
sister, and so, even though they protested, I found a place to
stay in an Armenian home, and remained with these people and
worked for them several months. They were very kind, but they
were also very poor, for they too had been among the exiles, and
were just now trying to get a new start in life.
While I was working here at Abulkemal, my Arabian uncle came
back to see me several time, and tried to persuade me to return
with him to my Arab home. But I could not. I told him that I
hoped my father was alive, and that I must got and find him.
Each time he was very sorry. Also, each time he gave me money
and fruit. However, he said nothing about my inheritance, and I
did not think of it myself. It was a goodly inheritance, and I
should have been wealthy had I returned to claim it. For I was
my Arab father's heir, and he was not a poor man. But now I do
not mind. Some things are worth more than wealth.
Another important thing happened while I was staying here in
this humble Armenian home. I once more had the days of the week
straightened out in my mind, and was able to keep the Sabbath of
the Lord upon the seventh day, as the fourth commandment in the
Bible teaches. All the months we were on the long death march,
and did not know which day it was, we kept the Sabbath as best
we could in our heart. One of the last things my mother had told
me when I left her was not to forget the Sabbath, and all the
four years I was in my Arab homes I remembered and kept it
sacredly in my heart. But now it was all different, and I was
rejoiced.
Finally we were ready to start for Aleppo. There were, after
all the waiting, only two of us Armenian girls. We had a guard
of Turkish soldiers to protect us, and Onnig also came. I
remember we stopped at a large city called Bahub to spend the
night. When we reached Aleppo, the other girl was turned over to
the authorities who were responsible for sending Armenian girls
back to their homes. But since I was recorded as Onnig's sister,
they supposed he would look after me, and made no other
arrangements.
This young man was really more than kind. He took me to a
good hotel in Aleppo, bought me clothes I needed to be really
presentable, and paid for my food and all expenses. In the
evenings he would come and take his "sister" out
somewhere, or visit with me to relieve my loneliness. I was all
the time uneasy, and very anxious to start back to Ismid and
Ovajik. But he seemed in no hurry.
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