A culture of survivors

As community members in Jaffa gear up to commemorate the centennial of the Armenian Genocide, an event their adopted home country still fails to recognize, they find themselves fighting for survival yet again. But this time they are their own worst enemy. When most people think of the Armenian community in Israel, it's not the population in southern Tel Aviv that comes to mind, but rather the Armenian Quarter in Jerusalem's Old City, where the majority of the Israeli-Armenian population resides. But further away from the epicenter of tradition lies a sizable minority community. None of those in Jaffa can decide how strong they are in number. Some say that the Armenian community in Jaffa consists of only 40 large families, others say thousands live in the city. There is no way of keeping track, as more and more immigrants from surrounding countries come into the country. Armenians are one of the oldest ethnic communities in Israel, according to David Terzibashian, one of many direct descendants of the original Jaffa Armenians. The vast majority are Armenian Orthodox Christians. In 1915 nearly 1.5 million Armenians residing in the area of the present day Republic of Turkey were systematically slaughtered by the Ottomans. Those who escaped and those who survived deportation fled to the surrounding regions, with many traveling to what was then Palestine. They knew that Palestine was already a hospitable place for Armenians, as many already lived there. Those who came before the genocide arrived in Jerusalem hundreds of years ago with the Crusaders, and as far back as the first century. April 24, the centennial anniversary of the beginning of the massacres, will not be marked officially in Israel, but some ceremonies will be held in Jerusalem, and a protest will be held outside the Turkish Embassy in Tel Aviv calling for international recognition of the genocide. The first wave of immigrants arrived in the region after the Armenian Genocide in 1915. The diaspora led the surviving Armenians from Turkey to Lebanon, Syria, Jordan, Armenia and Palestine. Most traveled by foot in large groups, taking years to reach their final destination. The few who came by walking settled in Jerusalem, but those who came by sea often landed at Jaffa Port. Upon reaching the port, most immigrants and refugees turned to Saint Nicholas Monastery, the main Armenian church and community center in the city, which served them as a temporary home. Terzibashian's grandfather was in charge of the port authority in Jaffa during Ottoman rule. He worked with Armenian orphans and refugees who came in through the port, arranging for their safety and finding the a place to stay. Many of these immigrant refugees were either deported or couldn't make a living in Jaffa, so they moved on. After war broke out in 1948, many of the remaining Armenians fled from other parts of Israel into Jerusalem, the last place to be affected by the fighting, thus further diminishing the non-Jerusalem Armenian communities. THE NUMBER of those who managed to stay in Jaffa to this day is small, but they are strong. The close-knit group of descendants of genocide survivors still attends the church at Saint Nicholas Monastery every Saturday morning. They make a decent living in the city and have created a rugged community that emphasizes education and tradition. “Armenians do well everywhere,” Agavne Kirkorian, a descendant of Tel Avivian Armenians, says. “They are highly educated and put an emphasis on higher education. We don't like welfare or other people to take care of us, even orphans and refugees. We like to take care of ourselves. We are proud, hardworking people, it's part of our Armenian spirit of always excelling.” Although the community is small, members often brag that they have a couple of doctors and many lawyers. But this is a rarity, as many of the more highly skilled Armenians left Jaffa long ago. “The more economically mobile ones left,” Israel Torossian, 64, a longtime member of the Armenian community, explained. “They left 10 years ago to go to Europe. They were working here, but there wasn't enough money to support their families. So they found similar work in Europe for much more pay. While these moves benefited the individual families, it hurt the community overall.” Those who have stayed behind are mainly what Torossian calls “workers” – those not involved in business. Some are employed by the Tel Aviv Municipality, while others work fixing cars or doing electrical work. Taxes in Tel Aviv are very high, and salaries are very low, making life difficult. But, people still say you can do better there than you might in Jerusalem, where jobs are scarcer and usually lower paying. Torossian worked for the Tel Aviv Municipality as a lifeguard in Jaffa for 43 years. He's been awarded honors by the municipality and they sit proudly on display in his living room next to the photos of his grandparents on their wedding day. He smiles as he talks about the hundreds of lives he saved and the many summers on the Israeli beaches. NOT EVERY Armenian in Jaffa is a municipality employee or a “worker” though. Take the Hanawi brothers, who have owned a family business on Yefet Street in Jaffa for the past 20 years. The butcher shop caters to a diverse clientele and business is good these days, and this isn't their family's only shop in town. Their grandmother came to Israel through Lebanon after the genocide, which they refer to as the “Holocaust.” His family is half Armenian and half Christian Arab, but they remain connected to their Armenian heritage by attending church every Saturday and going to an Armenian social club. “My mom gave us the language, she mixed us in,” Jonathan Hanawi says. “To keep the language and keep the history through the generations makes you feel connected to something. Two years ago I went to Armenia and their 'Yad Vashem' [The Armenian Genocide Museum]. It was very powerful. My family will go to the protests outside the embassy [this] weekend, it's very important.” Torossian has lived in Jaffa his entire life, but today he worries that Armenian culture is dying out in Israel, and especially in Tel Aviv. As the president of the Homenetmen Club, an international Armenian diaspora organization for men, women and children, he observes that with every passing generation the community becomes less and less connected to its heritage and the stories of the past. As he sits in his living room he tells the stories of his family. His mother arrived when she was eight years old after her father was killed in Turkey. She chose to settle in Tel Aviv, because it was the simplest walking route: from Turkey to Lebanon then into Tel Aviv. His father came to Tel Aviv on foot as a child after his father was killed. They met in Palestine and 10 years later they were married; they both found work and had six children. In Jerusalem, Armenians have their own quarter in the Old City, with multiple churches and a large convent. There they have their own schools, community centers and a large population committed to maintaining Armenian traditions and passing along the language. The State of Israel does not officially recognize the Armenian Genocide, largely due to diplomatic relations with Turkey, and this hurts the population. Muslim Turkey accepts that many Christian Armenians died in partisan fighting beginning in 1915, but it denies that up to 1.5 million were killed and, furthermore, they refuse to recognize it as genocide. For 100 years now, the Armenian community has been pushing for the recognition they believe they rightfully deserve. By preserving their culture, language and heritage, they protect their people in the hope that such slaughter will never again blacken their community. Since Israel doesn't officially recognize the genocide, Armenian history is not taught in Israeli schools . Armenian children used to learn the language at home from their parents and grandparents. But most Armenians in Jaffa call Hebrew their mother tongue, and it's what they speak both outside and inside the home. So, once a week after school a priest runs an Armenian school in the church for the children to learn the language. “The kids here, [when] they go to school they speak Hebrew and they forget to speak Armenian,” Torossian says. “It's a problem, because they go to the school and they come home and speak Hebrew. Then the parents answer them in Hebrew, it's not good. In my generation, we knew that you speak Hebrew in school and Armenian at home. My son, he speaks Armenian but not so well, but the generation after him, no one speaks Armenian.” Israel's son, Manuel, 32, resides in Jaffa as well. He understands Armenian thanks to his parents, but he says that he never speaks it outside his family. He explained that he believes “the Armenian Israelis are lost.” He sees the community's constant change and desire for assimilation. He says this generation is lacking firsthand accounts from survivors. He reminisces about hearing stories of flight and survival of the Armenian people from his mother during his youth. Additionally, it's becoming increasingly difficult, and important, to marry within the Armenian community. “All the people in Jaffa are one family,” he says. “You know why? Everybody marries within the family so they become one big family. Now the situation has become bad because there are too many girls, so they marry Christian guys outside the Armenian community. It's never been like this before.” ON SATURDAY mornings the small community still gathers at Saint Nicholas Monastery next to the port, just as they have for 100 years. The numbers are smaller though. The priest and clergymen put the full pageantry on display, dressing up in traditional clothes and chanting in Armenian throughout the service. The early birds are the more elderly members of the community, but as the morning ceremony drags on, more and more members of the community show up – some younger families and even children. On Saturday, April 18, the dwindling community commemorated their dead relatives, and after church they proceeded to the Armenian cemetery on the Jaffa-Bat Yam border. Families laid flowers atop the graves of their relatives and friends, but many graves lay untouched, as their descendants no longer live in Jaffa. David Hindoyan is the patriarch of one of the larger Armenian families on the cemetery grounds. He moved to Jaffa from Jerusalem 25 years ago in search of better opportunities and has stayed ever since. His wife describes his kin as one of the more traditional families in town. “Here in Israel we are a minority [among] the minorities,” Maram Hindoyan says while standing at the cemetery. “When you tell someone 'I am Armenian,' the first thing that comes is the language, the fact that you are a Christian and [then] the fact that we had a genocide in 1915. And slowly, slowly with one generation and then another and now the third generation they are going farther and farther away from the Armenians and the traditions.” One tradition the whole community can unite behind is standing up for their rights in the wake of the 1915 genocide. Whether descendants of survivors or Armenian immigrants to the Holy Land, each Jaffa Armenian feels a strong connection to the 1.5 million slaughtered. Just as the Jewish community chants “never again,” the Jaffa Armenian community will protest the same creed outside the Turkish Embassy in Tel Aviv on April 24, in the slim hopes that their home country will help them receive the international recognition they so desire. Whatever happens, the small community in Jaffa will keep holding on.

A culture of survivors

The Armenian diaspora prepares to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the genocide that killed 1.5 million, while the Armenians in Jaffa struggle to maintain their cultural strength.

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