The heroic resistance of Armenian highlanders from the six villages of Musa Dagh (Musa Ler in Armenian) represents the un-yielding struggle against oppression and violence, embodied in the legendary story of the Armenian resolve to survive during the Armenian Genocide.
The widely recounted narrative goes like this: during the Armenian Genocide, approximately 4,200 Armenians, upon learning about the Ottoman “Relocation and Resettlement Law” of July 1915, gathered their weapons, livestock, and essential supplies to retreat to Musa Dagh mountain in defiance of the order. Fifty-three days later, they were rescued by the French warship Guichen and transported to Port Said in Egypt. Four years later, at the end of World War I, the majority returned to their respective villages, triumphant against all odds.
This struggle to keep their homeland has inspired not only many generations of Armenians but also foreign writers and advocates, including literary giant Anatole France, who in 1916, famously declared, “A nation that does not want to die, does not die.” Those words preface the Armenian translation of Frantz Werfel’s renowned 1933 novel, The Forty Days of Musa Dagh. The bestselling book drew global attention to Armenian heroism. Some believe it even inspired Jewish resistance in the ghettos during the Holocaust.
On the flip side, the story is equally if not more important to Turks, considering the tireless efforts of lobbyists and pressure groups to block any attempts to adapt Werfel’s novel into films, even causing American actor and filmmaker Sylvester Stallone to abandon what he called his “dream project.”
Today, the living testament of this legendary narrative is the last remaining Armenian village in Turkey called Vakif. Somehow the 135 indigenous Armenians are able to unapologetically uphold the culture and customs of Musa Dagh Armenians in broad daylight.
Locals of the neighboring towns would ask if we were from Armenia or when we had arrived, and how old the village was. Some would even ask ‘What is an Armenian?’ We explained that we are indigenous to these ancient lands and lived here long before they arrived.
Along with preserving their Armenian dialect and Christian traditions, the residents particularly cherish harissa (hirisi in the Musa Dagh dialect), a dish said to have sustained them during their time on the mountain. On the eve of Blessing of the Grapes, they gather at the churchyard of the one remaining Armenian Church in the area called Surp Asdvadzadzin (Holy Mother of God). They sing, dance, and place seven casseroles of wheat and lamb on the fire to cook all night. The next day, they feast on it after the grape blessing ceremony.
Lacemaking is another handicraft tradition carried forward from the Port Said days. It was the Sisvan School, opened by AGBU, that taught the art of needlepoint lace to the female refugees. Today, Vakif women still make lace, proudly noting its origins from the refugee camps where their grandmothers found safe haven during the Genocide.
Historical remnants also exist as one observes the waves of demographic ups and downs in the village. After WWI, when the majority of Armenians returned from Egypt, they lived under French administration until 1938. However, the population drastically decreased when the newly independent Hatay Republic (1938-1939), which housed all the Armenian villages, joined the Republic of Turkey as a province. The vast majority moved to Syria, driven mainly by fear and trauma from the Genocide. Yet, 70 Armenian families, the majority from Vakif village, decided to take the risk and stay in their ancestral homes. “Whether what we did was right or wrong, you judge,” said Misak Hergelian (Hergel), the secretary of Vakif’s Armenian Church Foundation.
He went on to explain that, first, the Armenian population increased, but in the early 1960s, it faced a downturn. One of the reasons was the closure of schools. Those who wanted their children to learn Armenian had to send them to Armenian boarding schools in Istanbul. Once the children moved away, their parents soon followed, gradually emptying the village. Some other families also migrated to Germany for work. “In the 1960s, there were still about 300 houses. By the 1980s, the number had dropped to almost 100,” noted Hergelian.
Surprisingly, in the late 1990s, the village began to experience a revival. However, three decades later those gains were reversed in the wake of the devastating earthquake in Hatay. Ironically, the recently built Musa Dagh restaurant turned out to be Vakif’s main shelter for around 50-60 inhabitants, providing them a safe place with water and a fireplace.
Today, anyone visiting Vakif and speaking with members of the community, would easily observe that the heroism of their ancestors is ingrained in their modern identity as resilient, unyielding, and proud descendants of Armenian survivors. It is also the driving force never to lose hope for the future. When contemplating even the most dramatic scenarios, the response is: “You know the story behind our village; we can’t simply give up.”
The Second Revival
In the 1990s, the late Archbishop Mesrob Mutafyan (Mesrob II, Armenian Patriarch of Istanbul, 1998-2019) applied to the Turkish authorities for permission to repair the Surp Asdvadzadzin Armenian Church of Vakif village. Consequently, the repairing process began in 1996 and ended in 1997. It was also then that Vakif was declared the only remaining Armenian village in Turkey, which, according to Hergelian, became somewhat of a media sensation, driving interest and tourism to the village.
In the meantime, the Vakif Village Union was established in Istanbul to keep the youth connected. It began to facilitate tourism to Vakif during its festivities, such as the Blessing of the Grapes. Ever since, this annual celebration has united not only the people of Vakif, both from the village and those living in Istanbul, but also Musalertsies from around the world and, recently, even from Armenia.
Agriculture also gained momentum and further popularized the village. In 2004, the villagers started to produce organic citrus, mainly lemons and oranges, and products made from them, such as dried fruit and jams. This practice soon earned them the Social Fair Play Award from the National Olympic Committee of Turkey for “setting an example by securing one million Euros worth of export revenues to the country through organic agriculture.” However, due to high costs, the village eventually abandoned the practice and returned to traditional farming methods. Yet, their products still have a reputation for excellent quality, and people from neighboring towns and cities buy them online and offline.
You can’t expect young people to quit their opportunities and stay in the village, but you can cultivate a certain love for the village culture so that they decide to age there.
As the inflow of tourists grew, new ideas also emerged. Cem Çapar, the board chairperson of the Church Foundation, and his spouse Lora Çapar, an art historian and former correspondent for Agos newspaper, recalled that many non-Armenians would visit the village out of interest but didn’t know who Armenians were at all. “Locals of the neighboring towns would ask if we were from Armenia or when we had arrived, and how old the village was. Some would even ask ‘What is an Armenian?’ We explained that we are indigenous to these ancient lands and lived here long before they arrived. We realized that there was a need to make people aware of the village’s heritage,” says Cem.
Under Lora’s guidance, the Musadagh Museum was launched in 2018 with a centerpiece that captivated the villagers—a rare and stunning engagement dress from the village’s past. Initially met with skepticism, the project gradually won over the locals as they saw the beauty and cultural significance of the artifact. Inspired, they began donating family treasures, transforming the museum into a vibrant repository of their shared history. Lora notes that the collection has grown so large that they now require additional space to display it all. Today, the engagement dress stands proudly at the museum as a testament to the community’s journey from doubt to pride.
They have also documented the current families of the village as an oral history for future generations. Lora’s husband Cem added: “We realized that we were the history for our coming generations. Elderly people would pass away, taking their stories with them, and we felt responsible for passing them down. We started to record, home by home. It became an extensive archive.”
Along with the museum, the couple also opened a guest house for visitors and a youth center for the small but inspired young generation. The women’s initiatives officially fell under the umbrella of the Women’s Cooperative, where they now present their products, such as home-made preserves, hand-made jewelry, and lacework, among other authentic wares. This revival earned the village the status of Best Village in Turkey in 2019.
Peering Into the Future
Currently, the village is gradually recovering from the devastating effects of the 2023 Hatay earthquake. It caused significant damage from a demographic and economic perspective. Many houses were reduced to rubble, and the village’s unique architectural character was also partially compromised. Some residents are still living in portable tin dwellings.
Nevertheless, Vakif is rising from the ashes once again. In 2024, after 18 months of repair work, the Surp Asdvadzadzin Church reopened just in time for the Blessing of the Grapes and was anointed by the Armenian Patriarch of Istanbul, Sahak II Mashalian.
“Despite all the setbacks in the face of COVID, the economic crisis, and the earthquake, we recovered and celebrated yet another Blessing of the Grapes with many visitors to the event. This is a good and promising sign,” noted Cem.
The village faces some universal problems common to all villages in the face of urbanization. Additionally, it struggles to preserve Armenianness there. Yet, Cem focuses on the positive side. “I know the village quite well. For the past 20-25 years, we have had deaths and births, and the number remains static—135 people. Besides, some people go to study at universities and then come back to the village. I did that 15 years ago. Now, besides my occupation in the village’s Church Foundation, I run a veterinary clinic. Two other graduates returned to the village this year too and found jobs in Hatay.”
Hergelian has another positive outlook related to the elderly generation. He returned to the village with his spouse Armenouhi in 2013 after they retired, although their two sons still live and work in Istanbul. “You can’t expect young people to quit their opportunities and stay in the village, but you can cultivate a certain love for the village culture so that they decide to age there.”
Despite the skepticism among the villagers about the future of their native lands, Lora is inspired by the young people who do not miss the chance to visit the village during festivities or summer vacations. The only thing that would prevent further demographic decline is ensuring that people can earn livable incomes and feel economically secure. “Connecting the museum with universities and academic institutions can also bring researchers to the village to conduct field studies,” she concluded.
Against all odds, the connection, love, and inspiration of the Vakif people—regardless of where they are in the world—provide hope for the future, reinforcing the belief that this unique indigenous community will keep the spirit of Musa Dagh Armenians alive for generations to come.
