Risking Her Life Selling Books In Kabul!

Who knew that selling books could be so risky? And writing those books? Perhaps even riskier! https://www.facebook.com/nd/?dw.stories%2Fposts%2F4649199755191726&work_newsfeed_token=S%3A_I183239561787790%3A4649199755191726&aref=1642930716914940&medium=email&mid=5d63c542fb22aG451937b8G5d63c9dc5b4fcG96&bcode=2.1642959519.AbxNMVJ0PoVRq9kiGZg&n_m=bethelcharkoudian%40gmail.com&lloc=media_attachement&rms=v2 With thanks to Garo Derounian for the heads up!

Rush Hour on Centre Street . . .

At rush hour, this past Friday, Marash Girl and Marash Boy were walking North on Centre Street, the traffic from the South stopped and backed up for miles ... the perfect moment for Marash Girl to play "Old Country Lady" . . . and so she did. She dutifully walked several feet behind Marash Boy all the way home!

His First Name . . .

Chatting with a fellow who had recently arrived in Massachusetts from the Middle East, Marash Girl asked about some of the issues the young man had had to face and how folks "identified" him. When Marash Girl wondered how folks knew if he was Christian, Jewish, or Muslim (as that seemed to be of importance in that faroff land) and treated him accordingly, he answered, "They know who I am by my first name which is on my identity card." And that, apparently, made all the difference . . .

Today I saw an Armenian searching for food from the garbage.

 Dear Marash Girl,

Today I saw this man searching for food from the garbage. 

I couldn't stay inactive. I stopped and asked "Hye es?" ("Are you Armenian?)   

He said, "Ayo!" ("Yes," in Armenian.)  I gave him a small amount of $ and asked him to buy food, not to eat from the garbage. 

God bless you. 

​Garo Derounian​
Researcher

Beirut, Lebanon
Tel: 00961 3 546247
Email: garoderounian@hotmail.com

N.B. Marsh Girl writes, "​God save our people from starvation.  Readers, please help if you can, by donating money to the Armenian Missionary Association of America, 31 W Century Rd, Paramus, NJ 07652

to help our people, the Armenians in Beirut, Lebanon.

The Folks In Beirut, Lebanon, (Your Yeghpayrner) Need Your Help!!!!

                                                 "Աստուած օրհնէ մեր տունը"   "God Bless this home."  

                   Photo credit Levon Kalaydjian (He found it, while helping to clean the streets of Beirut after the explosion.)

Marash Girl's friend in Beirut writes in an email following the explosion which caused the disaster in Beirut, Lebanon, "For contributions, I don't know to whom you can address. Now lots of organizations are fundraising but I don't know the donations will reach the right places. They are evacuating people from their houses,  listing the damages.  Even before the satanic explosion we were facing very bad economic crises. I know lots of families in Bourj Hamoud the Armenian Quarter who were already in difficulties. Those are needy also."

Պէյրութի հզօր պայթումը, որ բազմաթիւ անմեղ Լիբանանցիներու կեանքը խլեց՝ իր ետին թողելով հազարաւոր վիրաւորներ, աւելի քան աւերիչ էր։ Անկախ այն իրականութենէն թէ արկած էր կամ կանխամտածուած ոճիռ, վնասը չափազանց ահռելի էր եւ անկրելի։ Աւերն ու կործանումը այնքան հսկայական էին եւ ծաւալուն, ոմանք զայն բնութագրեցին նմանը չունեցող Լիբանանի 15-ամեայ քաղաքացիական պատերազմի ընթացքին։

Please help by donating to the Beirut disaster relief fund at the Armenian Missionary Association of America (AMAA.org) in order to help those in need in Beirut, Lebanon.

Contact. 

AMAA Worldwide Headquarters 31 W. Century Rd. Paramus, NJ 07652

Tel: 201-265-2607             Fax: 201-265-6015                 info@amaa.org

https://www.newsweek.com/how-beirut-explosion-compares-hiroshima-bomb-1523236

All the Way to Istanbul to Meet with the Best Eye Doctor in the Land

Here's a story that Grandpa Peter used to tell.

There was a little boy in Marash, Turkey, who had very bad eye infections.  No matter what his parents used to heal the little boy's eyes, no matter what the local medicine woman suggested, nothing helped.  So one day, the little boy's parents decided to take their son to the best eye doctor in the land.  The family traveled all the way to Istanbul.  After waiting days, the family was finally granted an appointment with the renowned opthamologist.   When the doctor entered the room and examined the little boy's eyes, he asked the little boy to hold out his hands.  The doctor looked at the little boy's hands, and proceeded to tie the boy's hands behind the boy's back.  

"He'll be fine now," the doctor said.

Only God is Perfect

Recently, sitting on the sofa, gazing at the oriental rug covering the center of his living room floor, Raffi shouted, "Look, Ama!  There's a mistake in the rug!"  "A mistake?" Marash Girl queried.  "Yes, look!" Raffi insisted as he pointed to the  border of the rug, where there was one medallion that was different from all the others. "Look, they made a mistake," he insisted as he pointed to the one out of one hundred forty-seven medallions woven into the rug displayed on the center of his living room floor.  But Marash Girl was not alarmed.  Many years ago, Marash Girl had been forewarned by Arthur T. Gregorian that no oriental carpet could be perfect. . . by design, every hand-knotted oriental rug had to have in its pattern one deliberate error, for the rug-makers believed that "Only God is perfect!"

Sitting on the Post Office Steps in Beirut, Lebanon

Years ago, during Gail and Marash Girl's visit with cousin Garbis Dagermenjian in Beirut, Lebanon, the three were to meet in the central square in front of the post office.  Gail and Marash Girl were early, so rather than pace up and down in front of the post office (which they felt would be unbecoming of young ladies), they sat on the post office steps awaiting Garbis' arrival.

Garbis arrived soon after the appointed time, but his face was red with fury!  "Whatever was the matter?" the girls wondered.

As Garbis soon explained, the post office steps were, in fact, the place where the local prostitutes sat awaiting their customers.  How would two young and innocent American girls ever even guess at that reality?

Cop-cop

Marash Girl was just talking to Marash Boy yesterday about where she had acquired the tiny shoes similar to those pictured on the left in the photo on the right. (You got that?  the shoes on the left in the photo on the right?) It was many years ago, when a friend gifted those miniature shoes to Marash Girl, a friend from Iraq who was attending M.I.T. and was a member of the M.I.T. Arab Club. (He said Marash Girl reminded him of the women back home, even though Marash Girl didn't call herself Marash Girl in those days.  Who knows why.  Maybe because of her Armenian heritage or maybe because she looked like folks in Iraq or maybe because of the Middle Eastern hospitality she practiced?) Marash Girl had never seen such shoes, although she was told that all the women in Iraq wore them.  Her friend from Iraq called them "cop-cop"s.  But as far as the walking utility of the shoes pictured in that photo goes, "not very far," is Marash Girl's guess.
And from Cesar Jacques Chekijian on Facebook we learn the following about these slippers:

Aintab Habbab/Khabbab. Ancient wooden slippers that were common footwear. They were worn past WW-I. The low ones around the house and public baths. The tall/platform ones for outdoors, to walk in the mud or snow.

Aintab Habbab/Khabbab. Ancient wooden slippers that were common footwear. They were worn past WW-I. ...