Making Sense of it All

I have been trying to make sense of my time in Armenia since before I arrived, as those of you who have followed the blog from the beginning are painfully aware. My need to understand and assign meaning to this experience is peaking now that the countdown to departure has begun.

Among the many gifts of this sojourn are time alone with my dear sister, new friends, the simple pleasures of decoding every day things (like learning one finds spices near the meats in the grocery store or how to say the Armenian words for "right" and "left" to the taxi driver). Then come the magnificent concerts and a new appreciation for Armenian composers and performers, the beautiful monasteries, and fabulous fruits and vegetables. And the confirmation that I not only enjoy but do pretty well at sorting out a foreign system, making connections, and observing myself respond (even absent the language, maybe especially because I don't have the language).

Other gifts have surprised me. These are gifts of greater self-awareness--a keener understanding of who I am and why and how that affects the way I see the world. One is about the USSR, another Iran, and the third about facing adversity.

As a child of air raid drills, the Cuban missile crisis and strident anti-Soviet messaging (some might say brainwashing) in school, in movies, in the press during the Cold War, I could not have avoided absorbing negative attitudes toward the USSR. Even though Armenia struggles yet to move on from 70 years of Soviet rule many Armenians express gratitude to the Soviets for establishing modern Armenia as a political state for the first time. Finally -- a place where Armenians could be safe and secure from the threat of renewed attempts at genocide.

They also acknowledge the vast investments in factories and infrastructure the Soviets made. They established a system of education still admired here and fostered a native Armenian appreciation for the arts. For a long time they brought stability and an ideology that went beyond nationalism and religion. And they certainly brought in a ton of what might generously be called public art in the form of monuments, most conveying a sense of the power and greatness of the USSR.

We in the United States seldom got the positive side of the equation. To us, it was just all bad all the time. My experiences here have provoked a curiosity about how other former SSRs have coped, especially those who have not attracted significant foreign investments. But mainly it has been useful to to learn once again there is always more than one side to any story.

In the same vein, another pair of blinders got a big nudge when I learned about the positive regard in which Armenians hold Iran. Thanks to good relations with Iran, the Armenians have a narrow open border on the south, which is a route through which energy and many different types of goods go back and forth. They depend on Iran for gas. The US is not necessarily held in high regard (for many reasons) and there is worry about what would happen to Armenia should US-Iran relations deteriorate further.

The jolt I have felt most acutely pertains to how I respond (and want others to respond) to adversity. I have met people who are excited about Armenia's future and proud of its history and art traditions. They are working to build new models for higher education, to promote better care of the planet, to encourage entrepreneurship, to help families secure safe housing. They believe they can make a difference, even կամաց կամաց (slowly, slowly). These are my kinda folks. I love talking with them. But I am afraid they are in a minority.

Many people believe that because of widespread corruption in every aspect of life they have no power to change things, to create a new path. There is no collective sense of political will to end bribery and undue influence or to rid themselves of the grip of the very wealthiest Armenians -- "The Oligarchs" who actually run the country despite the political shell of a democracy.

This powers up my vigorously held belief by working together we can make life better for everyone -- and further, that we have an obligation to do so. It's so American, it's embarrassing. Wrapped in smiles, it is the height of "can do." Very much rooted in the belief that a powerful will can take you a long way toward a goal. The reluctance to believe (to have the will) makes me nervous. Turning around the fatalism I see here is going to be a journey of many baby steps...կամաց կամաց.

In ten weeks I know I have only scratched the surface. I have fallen in love with Yerevan and some of the people I have met here. I have discovered contradictions peculiar to this culture. I understand enough to form opinions or have a perspective (very precarious ground), but hardly enough to point the way toward meaningful and effective solutions. I am acutely aware that my mental puzzle box is missing many pieces. But I also know more about myself and feel grateful for the chance to examine my own view of the world and how it came to be.