Life is full of defining moments, and for Haig Aramian and Vrej Keusseian, the choice is between maintaining their national identity or letting the "good life" overwhelm their heritage. "In Sweden, like everywhere else in Europe these days, it is easy not to live as an Armenian," Aramian explained. "I have asked myself why Do I want to be an Armenian. Because in my case, I was not even raised as one." Freedom of choice often drives people to assimilate, but not for emigres Haig Aramian or Vrej Keusseian, who were both born deep inside Turkey and had little or no contact with other Armenians well into their early adult lives.
Aramian was born in the predominantly Kurdish city of Adana in southeastern Turkey. He was called Suleiman Farouk. As far as he knew, there were no Armenians in Adana, but his grandma other repeatedly reminded him as a child that "you are stubborn...you have Armenian blood in your veins." "For a long time I did not know what that meant, but my grandma other never stopped reminding me of our roots."
It took many years for Aramian to understand what she meant, to learn of the Armenian Genocide of 1915, and how thousands of Armenian families lost their identities when they were assimilated into the Turkish and local Kurdish societies. "Countless thousands of others also disappeared and became Kurds," Aramian said. In western Europe today, many so called Kurdish Armenians live in France, Holland and Belgium, rediscovering their heritage and religion.
Aramian's first contact with Armenians was in Syria after leaving Adana in search of a better life. "I was curious about my grandma other's repeated remarks. A Kurdish friend once told me there were Armenians in Marash. I went there in 1978 but did not find anyone. I kept looking until I found an Armenian church in Damascus in 1983 and approached the parish priest. We had a long talk, in Turkish of course, and the more I listened about the fate of Genocide survivors who stayed behind in Turkey and especially in Anatolia, the more I understood how my family was one of those lost Armenians. "Deep inside I always felt I was different. I could have remained a Kurd, but I decided otherwise. You might call me a true Armenian by choice," he said. Over the next two years before emigrating to Sweden in 1985, he was baptized in the Armenian church in Damascus, changed his name from Suleiman Farouk to Haig Aramian and began the journey to a new future as a Swedish Armenian.
He married in Stockholm to an Armenian immigrant from Diarbekir, named his children Massis, who is nine years old now, and Any, who is seven, and submerged himself into the Armenian life of Stockholm. First it was the language, then the culture and traditions, followed by a deeper understanding of the Christian faith. But even that was not enough. "I had missed out on so much, I wanted my children to grow up knowing who they were," Aramian said during a recent Interview . "My children now speak better Armenian than I do."
Twice in the past three years, Haig Aramian has taken his son to Armenia, but not just to see the sights. On his first two month visit, Haig took his son to a summer camp in Dzaghgadzor, and then to Karabakh. I did all this on my own. I had no friends there but I had to show my son what Armenia was all about.
"I wanted him to be proud of his Arm enian heritage along with his Swedish homeland. I owe this much to my late grandmother," he said in broken Armenian, often mixed with a few words of Swedish and a lot more of Turkish, the stronger of his several languages.
Aramian, who is a cook at a Swedish catering company, is very involved with community life and in his spare time collects Armenian artifacts like rugs, old coins and rare books. His one bedroom apartment is decorated with items he has brought back from Armenia.
"Next time you visit Sweden, I will be fluent in Armenian," he said. "My father and mother still live in Adana and they know what I have done and they agree with me. My brother, who moved to Sweden a few years ago, has also changed his old name and he is now Aram," he said.
Like Haig Aramian, Vrej Keusseian is also busy making up for time lost. Keusseian, who is 46 years old and has lived in Sweden for the past 23 years, saw the Armenian alphabet for the first time in his life in 1974 at a public library in Germany.
"I was born in a small predominantly Assyrian village near Merdin in Turkey. We knew we were ethnic Armenians, but unfortunately, we were not accepted by the Armenian community in Istanbul. The several people my father tried to talk to were always suspicious of our real heritage," Vrej said during a family gathering at his apartment in Vasteras, a small town 12 miles east of Stockholm. His good grades in high school qualified him for a scholarship in Germany, but after a few years, he moved to Sweden as a "refugee" because returning to Turkey would have meant serving in the army. "I arrived in 1977, and believe me, the first Armenian I met in Sweden was not until 1987," he said.
Keusseian, who is now an elementary school Turkish and Kurdish language teacher and interpreter, has turned his life around, coming a long way since seeing the Armenian alphabet for the first time in Germany. He has taught himself the Armenian language, and in his spare time teaches the children of new Armenian immigrants and leads the Ararat Armenian Cultural Association in Vasteras.His determination was so strong that in 1990 Keusseian took six months off from work, packed his bags, and traveled II 1to Armenia, enrolling as a student in the Yerevan Language Academy. "It was an experience which I will never forget. I am a different person now," he said.
Over the years, Keusseian has made a lot of friends in Armenia, frequently visiting Yerevan to strengthen his bonds. "Some call me a fanatic Armenian," he says with a smile. "But you have to remember where I came from. We were oppressed and denied our rights. This is Sweden, where the government encourages all ethnic groups to enhance their culture and heritage."
Keusseian has established a small fund named after his parents and with seed money from his immediate family and relatives has embarked on a mission to help children in Armenia. He is also working diligently on a Swedish Armanian dictionary which he hopes to publish next year. “Tre serving one‘s identity is a very serious and conscious decision. The community here in Keusseian has made a lot of friends in Armenia, frequently visiting Yerevan to strengthen his bonds. "Some call me a fanatic Armenian," he says with a smile. "But you have to remember where I came from. We were oppressed and denied our rights. This is Sweden, where the government encourages all ethnic groups to enhance their culture and heritage." socialize with Swedish families they feel well accepted by those with whom they are in daily contact.
"For those of us who came here as adults, assimilation is almost out of the question, but it will be different for our children who go to local Swedish schools, play with Swedish children and make Swedish friends," Aramian said.
This country is doing everything it can to help its immigrants integrate but, at the same time, the government and its various local authorities also provide financial assistance to all ethnic groups to enhance their cultural and religious lives. "We consider ourselves blessed in a way. We must make use of all that is being offered," Aramian said.
