21 years ago this week…

21. years. ago.

That seems like ages ago, and then sometimes it seems like yesterday. My parents called us all in the kitchen to share with us the horrific news about a massive earthquake that had occurred in Armenia. We children all stood there in shock.

It was always exciting, albeit rare, when something Armenian was in the news. Whenever we saw an Armenian name in the credits of a film or TV show growing up, we felt so proud and began to call our relatives and friends to alert them… even if we had no clue who that famous Armenian was… it was just such a thrill to see our culture or someone representing our culture in the media.

But this was different. This news event wasn’t something to get excited about. In fact, I am sure I began to cry along with my mom. No one from our family had ever been to the Homeland, but we all felt a deep connection to the home of our ancestors… and we were devastated as we saw the images of suffering, the horrors of the aftermath of the earthquake on the news channels…

As a community, we began to collect clothes, blankets, medical supplies, and money, lots of money to send to the victims of the earthquake. I remember how comforting it was to know that people all across the world – Armenians and non-Armenians! – were donating all that they could to help the victims in Armenia. I was so moved by the display of love that people were showing to my people. For some, this was the first time that they had even heard of Armenia and Armenians, and yet, they poured out their love for the earthquake victims through selfless donations…

We were all so encouraged when we’d hear reports of how many supplies and how much aid money was being sent to the Homeland to help the people who had suffered such loss. It would be just a matter of time before the people there could rebuild their lives, or so we thought…

And then, years later I had the chance to visit Armenia for the first time. I was the first one from my family to ever set foot in the Homeland and I was thrilled at the opportunity. I was seeing this country that I had dreamed about… it was an amazing experience!

And it was a painful experience.

I remember one day driving out away from the city… we were singing in the car, laughing and eating delicious peaches…when all of sudden something caught my attention. “What is that?” – I asked our driver pointing to the large metal gas container that was lying next to the road as we drove right by. “That is a container,” he answered plainly. Well, I knew it was a container… but what I really wanted to know was what it was doing by the side of the road like that. My friend, an American-Armenian who was now living and working in the country, understood I wanted to know more. “That is someone’s home,” she answered quietly.

I will never forget the explanation that followed. These were some of the poorest people in Armenia; they were victims of the Earthquake who had lost their homes, their belongings, and for many, their loved ones. They had lost everything… and now, many years later after the earthquake, they were living in these make-shift homes… in gas containers… all these years later, this was their home.

They were living in containers. Metal cylinders.

I was speechless for a minute. Then I began to cry. “But what about all the money we gathered and sent here?” I remember shaking as I spoke. “What about all the clothes and all the supplies we collected?” People from all over the world had sent aid. So why were these people still living in containers? Why hadn’t we helped them live in proper homes?

Our driver slowly began to explain: “the money doesn’t always get to the people it needs to get to…” he shook his head. Often times, the aid that was sent here ended up in the wrong hands… ruthless people who kept the money, the clothes, the supplies for themselves… people who hadn’t suffered any loss were now stealing from the poorest of the poor.

I could hardly believe my ears… I couldn’t believe that this had happened. That this was happening.

I remember how my heart broke that day. Driving past containers by the side of the road and knowing that people lived inside… people who perhaps wondered why no one had tried to help them after the devastation of the earthquake. People who didn’t realize that we had tried to help. We had sent the aid. We just hadn’t ever expected that what we had sent would never ever reach these victims.

I am remembering that bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach as we continued to drive that day in Armenia…

Tags: Armenia, Armenians, earthquake