by David Zenian
Every community in the vast Armenian Diaspora traces its roots to an event or a person, and for those living in Estonia today, that person is Khatchadour Abovian, the famous novelist and educator who replaced classical Armenian, or Grabar, with the vernacular as a tool to make literature more understandable to the ordinary citizen.
Abovian came to Estonia in 1830 at the age of 21 as a student at Tartu University in southeastern Estonia, where his stone bust still stands in one of its main buildings today. He was accompanied by a group of other Armenian intellectuals whose works have since inspired such famous Armenian songs as Dzidzernak, which tells the story of a person living in a far away land anxiously waiting for news from his homeland, and "Let's raise our wine glasses, friends," a toast to Armenia.
Abovian studied and worked at Tartu University for six years, which was then known as Derpt or Torbat in Armenian, where he and his friends established the first Armenian cultural association which is still remembered today and remained an inspiration for the generations that followed him to Estonia.
In 1848, there were some 25 Armenians living in Estonia. In 1890, that number had reached 240 only to drop to less than a handful in the early 1930's. But starting with 1959, more and more Armenians began arriving and by 1990 when the Soviet Union started to fall apart, the Armenians numbered around 2000 in Estonia.
More than 164 years have passed since Abovian's sojourn in Estonia, but his legacy is still alive, especially among intellectuals who have translated his works into several languages, including Russian.
It was probably thanks to Abovian, that Tartu and the Armenian town of Gyumri (the former Leninakan) became sister cities in 1978. To mark the occasion, the local authorities sent a special monument to Tartu which still stands in one of the city's main squares and serves as the focal point on special occasions for Tartu's Armenian population.
Armenian ties with Estonia came to a halt after Armenia became part of the Soviet Union. It remained frozen until 1940 when Estonia itself was occupied by the Soviets and integrated into the USSR.
According to available statistics, there were only 24 Armenians living in Estonia in 1934. There is no information about who these people were, but some sources believe they were former residents of Moscow who had family ties with local Estonians.
The community began to grow after 1940, and especially so between 1960 and 1970 when thousands of workers, scientists, technicians, engineers and other professionals—including many Armenians—were brought to Estonia to work on special development projects.
Who are the Estonian Armenians today?
After serving in the Soviet army from 1961 to 1963, Garik Iknoyan, studied economics at the local university, married an Estonian girl and decided to make Tallinn his home.
"Estonia was part of the Soviet Union, and living here was not like living in a foreign country," said Iknoyan who was named Honorary Consul of Armenia in 1999 and still holds that position today.
During the Soviet era, Iknoyan held several key administrative posts in the agricultural and transportation sectors, but began his own private business after the collapse of the Soviet Union in the early 1990's.
He is one of the few Armenians closely involved with the community and remains active not just as an accredited diplomat but as a person who is often called upon to solve the problems facing the estimated 2,000 to 2,500 Armenians living in the country.
"Unlike the other countries of Europe, we do not have a large number of new immigrants from Armenia. Maybe just a handful because Estonia has closed its doors. After all, this is a small country and it has more than its share of resident aliens, especially Russians," he said during a meeting at his central Old Town Tallinn office complex which he shares with the newly established Armenian Church Council and the Armenian Cultural Association.
The building, in one of Tallinn's most prestigious locations, also houses the French and Polish Cultural Centers.
"We were lucky to have a friend and good Armenian official in the Tallinn City Council. We have a long term lease on the premises and the rent is not much," he said.
That man is Indrek Ahlberg, a true Estonian-Armenian. His mother came to Estonia as a young Armenian bride. Her husband, an avid mountaineer, was returning to Estonia after climbing Mount Arakadz when the two met on a train.
"I'm very stubborn when it comes to my children—and now my grandchildren. They all speak fluent Armenian, and that makes my Estonian husband jealous," she said. "When I got married, I told my husband that I must raise my children as good Armenians and Estonians at the same time. and I have done that."
Indrek, 37, is a lawyer who works for the Tallinn city council and his brother Armen, 35, is a medical doctor. They are both very well integrated, but for the vast majority of the other Armenians, the question of citizenship remains a thorny issue.
In the months before independence, Estonian activists began collecting signatures from the people in support for their cause—breaking away from the Soviet Union.
"All those non-ethnic Estonians who signed the petition were granted citizenship immediately after independence. Unfortunately, only a few Armenians signed the petition.
"I guess they were not far-sighted. But then, it was not easy to imagine that the Soviet Union would actually break up," Iknoyan said. "But all those Armenians who were here before independence were given residence permits, like a U.S. Green Card, which allows them to enjoy almost all the privileges of Estonian citizens except the right to vote," he said.
But the Residence Permits are not a cure-all. Armenians, like other ethnic groups including the Russians, need to obtain visas to travel outside Estonia, including Armenia, their "country" of origin and birthplace.
Estonians on the other hand, have free access to all of Europe.
Another problem facing the Armenians is that of language. In the decades preceding independence, Russian was the main language and Armenians did not feel the need, or even had the inclination, to learn Estonian.
Today, one of the major conditions for a resident alien, or green card holder, to get Estonian citizenship is to pass an Estonian language test - something which most Armenians find not only difficult, but at times even impossible.
"They can still survive in the market place with just Russian. Let's not forget that nearly half of Tallinn's population consists of ethnic Russians. The so-called older Armenians still manage to lead a normal life here without the knowledge of the Estonian language, but its not the same with the new generation," Iknoyan said.
While during the years immediately after independence Armenians were looked upon as a group similar to the Russians, that image has changed over the years.
Some years ago, the Estonian authorities gave the Armenian community an old church, which the community has begun to renovate. While repair work continues —though at a very slow pace because of financial restrictions—the community now gathers in a Lutheran church for services.
At a special ceremony last October, a small group of Armenians marked the first anniversary of the Enthronement of Catholicos Karekin II and the assassination of top Armenian government officials.
In the absence of a resident priest, the memorial service was offered by an Armenian, a graduate of the local theological school who has taken it upon himself to provide some of the community's spiritual needs.
"I am not an ordained priest, but under the circumstances, I am doing the best I can," said Armen Andranikian who settled in Tallinn six years ago.
"The important thing is to get the Armenians to come to church on Sundays to feel part of a community. It is no secret that all of us here feel a certain closeness to the church, especially because we are so far away from our homes," he said.
On that same Sunday, a leading Russian painter—who is married to an Armenian—donated a large oil portrait of Catholicos Karekin II to the community.
"This will be the first portrait we will hang in our church once the repair work is completed," Andranikian said.
To keep the small community abreast with developments in Armenia, and to maintain a link among the expatriates, Yuri Vartanian and his wife Goharig produce a weekly radio program in both Armenian and Russian.
"As a community we are rather privileged to have an hour a week dedicated to us by the Estonian National Radio station. We are the smallest community compared to the Russians and the Ukrainians, yet we have the same number of hours per week," he said in an interview.
Vartanian, whose father came to Estonia as a Soviet Army doctor in 1940, is an engineer by training, but donates his free time to community service.
"I owe it to my father. He was from the Mardakert region of Karabakh, and when he died in 1974, we took his remains and buried him there. That was his last wish.
"One thing that I regret most is not learning Armenian, but my wife Goharig is from Armenia and she handles the Armenian portion of our radio program while I do the Russian section," he said.
As much as the radio is a major link for the community, the small Armenian school also plays a key role, especially among the younger generation facing an identity crisis.
"The vast majority of the parents of these children don't speak Estonian. They are not fully integrated like their children are trying to. We need to keep their Armenian identity alive, and the school is one of the best places for us to do that," said Artem Davidyants, the Dean of the Social and Humanities Institute and volunteer principal of the Armenian school.
Davidyants, who came to Estonia 25 years ago, and a group of similar-minded community activists began the school three years ago, thanks to a special arrangement with the authorities in Tallinn who gave them several rooms at a local school for a small nominal fee.
Today, the school has more than 30 students between the ages of seven and 18. Many don't speak Armenian because they come from mixed marriage parents.
It's only ten years since Estonian independence, and for the small Armenian community the struggle has just begun.
"During the Soviet years, the concept of community was different. Maybe it was not even there. Today, we have to work hard not to lose what we have. The church and school play a key role," Davidyants said.
