by David Zenian
From small restaurant owners to journalists, Armenians are rapidly adapting to the new realities of post-Soviet Uzbekistan, itself undergoing a major transformation away from all-things-Russian which for generations threatened its own national identity.
The days are gone when membership in the communist party was considered the stepping stone to success.
"There is no open discrimination against minorities in this country. If you want to move ahead, you have to be the best in your field. You have to be better than the others. This is not a new concept for Armenians...not here, and not anywhere else in the world," television cameraman Andrei Agekyan said.
Uzbekistan is one of the most ethnically diverse countries in Central Asia. One report indicates the presence of more than 100 diverse ethnic groups who have settled here since the turn of the 20th century.
Among the largest are the Russians. But there are also Tajiks, Armenians and 250,000 Koreans, who were uprooted by Communist dictator Stalin in the mid-1930's for "security reasons" from their homes along what today is the North Korean border with Russia, and re-settled in Uzbekistan.
Both Armenian and Uzbek sources put the number of Armenians living across Uzbekistan at close to 40,000, including about 20,000 in Tashkent and 12,000 in Samarkand.
During the communist era, ethnicity was not an issue. It was also not strange to see people from different ethnic backgrounds in government or party positions in the republics other than their countries of origin.
But with the collapse of the Soviet Union, ethnicity and nationalism have replaced membership in the communist party as the defining factor in appointments to civil service and the higher echelons of government.
But there is more to success and progress than a government job which often pays less than the private sector.
Emma is a forty-something second generation Uzbek Armenian mother with unique culinary skills which she has turned into a profitable business.
"I have cooked for my family all my life, and now I cook for others," she said over dinner at her famous Emma's Restaurant in Tashkent. "I hope you liked the food," she added.
On the menu that evening was the traditional "Khorovadz" shish-kebab which the locals call "shashlik", stuffed cabbage with garlic-yogurt, bastourma, and a number of other dishes.
The restaurant, which once was a single-family home with a small courtyard, was packed to capacity. A three-man band played Armenian music as one of the musicians, Ardash, sang Armenian songs, old and new, sad and happy.
Emma's is one of dozens of Armenian restaurants, not only in Tashkent but also in Samarkand and other Uzbek cities which a representative of a Western embassy describes as the "only good places to eat unless you want to spend a fortune at night clubs."
"You have to be the best at anything you do, including cooking. Everyone comes here because it is an Armenian restaurant ... this is good for public relations," she says with a smile.
Far away from the world of food, another Armenian is breaking the ethnic barrier. She is Ruzana Sogomonian, a 23-year-old English-language major and one of the rising stars of the Uzbek national television station in Tashkent.
Twice a week, Ruzana anchors the English news program-the only one in the Tashkent region. She also interviews visiting foreign diplomats, businessmen and dignitaries.
A soft-spoken person, Ruzana describes herself as "100 percent Armenian" but admits she only understands her mother tongue, Russian.
"I was born in Uzbekistan, and so were my parents. Growing up in Tashkent, I learned Russian and later English. Uzbek was not widely spoken ... in fact, few people spoke Uzbek. The official language was Russian and that's what we learned," she said during a break from her preparations for the English newscast.
It was her English language skills that helped her get her current job.
"A lot of people were interviewed for this position, and they chose me because I was better. I have to keep improving if I want to keep my job. In this profession, the important thing is how good you are, and not just who you know. It is as simple as that," she said with great confidence.
"Nearly all the newscasters at Uzbek Television are women, and competition is very strong. You have to be the best in what you do if you want to move ahead of the rest," she said.
In Samarkand, another young television professional, Andrei Agekyan, is busy producing advertising footage for the local station.
"I started as a cameraman and was doing very well until I was squeezed out of my job by a local. But that was not the end of the road for me," he said.
Agekyan switched to advertising, and with the help of a local businessman, began producing short advertising segments and is now one of the best known producers in the city.
"It is not easy, but there is nothing impossible. At the end of the day, people remember the quality of the work you do. I am not irreplaceable, but at the moment I am doing well," he said
Andrei, who is in his early 30's, is also active in the Armenian community, often "lecturing" young Armenians to concentrate on their professional skills.
"In the old days, if your father was a top official in government or the communist party, your future was guaranteed. You could have had any job you wanted-even if you knew nothing. Not anymore," he said. At an impromptu social gathering, 25 young Armenian men and women, spend more time discussing their careers and education than what's new in the fashion world or music.
A quick survey was enough to understand where these young Armenians were heading.
Elena Mnatsakanian, 22, is an economist by education and presently in charge of a tourist company. Ashot Agayan, 19, is studying to become a journalist. Arsen Hovhannesyantz, 20, is a senior in mechanical engineering, and Angelique Haroutunova is majoring in foreign languages with an emphasis on English.
"They are all professionals and I am sure all will be successful," Agekyan said.
But the youth also have other objectives. These include keeping the Armenian culture and music alive. They have already put together a small Armenian dance ensemble which performs once or twice a year to large audiences. The group also publishes a Russian-language newspaper. "Louys"-which means light-about Armenian issues and news.
"We were raised in a different era where our ethnic background came only from what we saw at home. We need to do more, not only for the children but the teenagers and young adults as well.
"The newspaper is in Russian because we want everyone to know what is happening in Armenia. One day we will start publishing in Armenian too," Agekyan said.
At a Uzbek public school in central Samarkand, a project launched by a group of young professionals is already moving ahead with the help of volunteers.
Thanks to the school's Armenian principal Valerie Surenovich Mirzoyan and help from Samarkand's education authorities, the school's 120 Armenian students are given an opportunity to study their native language and history.
"This is a Russian-Uzbek school, but a large number of our students are Armenians. We have permission from the authorities to teach Armenian to whoever wants it," Mirzoyan said.
Despite the heavy snow and bad weather, the Armenian-language class was full of young children between the ages of seven and ten. Textbooks were few and teaching materials almost non-existent but spirits were high.
Nelly, the volunteer language teacher, was busy reading and telling stories.
"The children are happy and the situation will get even better if we get organized. At the moment, we depend only on our volunteers," she said.
Nelly was born and raised in Nagorno Karabakh and moved to Samarkand in 1987.
"We should do everything in our power not to lose the young generation. The earlier we start teaching them Armenian, the better. All we need is books from Armenia," she said.
As the new generation struggles with the present needs of the Armenian community, it often points to the older generation as an example of what it wants to change.
"Our fathers did not have the opportunity or maybe did not feel the need to teach us Armenian. It was not their fault, but times have changed and we are no longer in the Soviet Union where Russian was enough. Our fathers were Sovietized, but we are not," Agekyan said.
Ruben Apkarovich Safarov, was born in the Uzbek city of Andizhan in 1930. An engineer by training, he has served as the chief editor of Russian-language Pravda Vostoka newspaper in Tashkent from 1987-96 and now serves as a director of a large state-owned heavy industrial complex which manufactures agricultural equipment.
"We were integrated into the Soviet society. That was our way of life. We now live in Uzbekistan and not the Soviet Union, and we have to learn to adapt and change," he said. Safarov attributes his success to his education and loyalty.
"Like Armenians everywhere, we have to be good citizens of our adopted countries. This is true both in the United States and Uzbekistan, but we can also be good Armenians as well," he said.
Safarov has sent his son, who is 31 years old, to Armenia several times to study Armenian. "My son is a lawyer and speaks better Armenian than I do, and I hope one day soon he will marry an Armenian girl," he said.
Like Safarov, Alexander Danielevich Sarkissian, is an "old generation" Armenian.
Born in Nagorno Karabakh in 1920, Sarkissian moved to Tashkent in 1939, joined the Soviet army and moved up the ranks. He served in the Internal Security forces for 25 years and was the Tashkent police chief from 1961-1967.
"In 1945 I went back to Karabakh to get married. My son Rudig (Robert) has followed my footsteps and is now a police officer here in Tashkent," Sarkissian said.
"We were Soviet Armenians and now we are proud Uzbek Armenians. This is our home. I am sure my son will one day be as famous as I was," he said showing off the decorations he had earned over his long career in law enforcement.
"We are survivors," he said.
