As the Poppies Bloomed

by Maral Boyadjian

  My mother’s mother was kidnapped by various tribes along the deportation route until my grandfather, a traveling merchant whose wife and adult children had been killed during his absence, found this young Armenian girl who was almost a child, bought her, and married her. Years later, they found themselves in Aleppo, Syria’s second largest city, home to tens of thousands of Armenian refugees. My father’s family, who were from the area of Sassoun and had been through a similar ordeal, also arrived in Aleppo. My parents met and married there and our family emigrated to the United States when my sister, brother, and I were very young children.

  My maternal grandmother lived with us, and her torn memories of loss and love haunted me in childhood. I was left trying to comprehend the enormous pain and larger-than-life terror she had endured and her ability to raise a family while plagued by those memories. I wondered how she had transformed herself from the genocide survivor she was to the grandmother who offered unconditional love, hope, and faith.

  I was a teenager when I realized that the image I held of my grandmother in her early years was of a helpless, desperate young woman. It dawned on me that I no longer wanted to hold that isolated picture in my heart. I wanted to know her as she was before the carnage, before the violence, when she was still whole and healthy and happy.

  Years later, when my daughter was a freshman in college, she told me of more than one friend who had never heard of the Armenian Genocide. That was the fuel I needed, both to delve into my grandparents’ stories and to share the pain of the loss and the love that was an irrevocable part of their lives—and mine. And so my five years of research and writing began. My goal was to complete As the Poppies Bloomed in time for the 2015 centennial commemorating the Armenian Genocide.

  When I had completed three-quarters of the manuscript, I was suddenly overcome with self-doubt. What if my depiction of the villagers and their bond to each other and to their land was incorrect, insufficient, less than faithful? Feeling that I could possibly be doing an injustice to the people who had lived and loved and prospered in those valleys and on those hillsides, I traveled straight to the very folds of the mountains of Armenian Sassoun (today in eastern Turkey), where this novel takes place.

  I wept when I saw hills and fields just as I had imagined them. Even the hues and tones of the deep, red soil were as I had known they would be. It was the very earth my grandfather had walked on.

  This is a work of fiction, but some events in the novel are based on true-life stories I have inherited. Raffi, the fedayee (freedom fighter), just as my husband’s maternal grandfather decades before him, escaped scrutiny and imprisonment as he passed soldiers bent in prayer. Daron, like my husband’s paternal grandfather, earned his bread by lifting a heavy rug onto his back in the bazaar in Syria while survivors around him fought off hunger by eating a cat.

  Finally, Mgro, the merchant in the story, was crafted around stories of my maternal grandfather, who gave my grandmother a silver bracelet when their daughter was born. It was a lovely bangle with tendrils all around it joined by twin roses—the same one Daron gives Anno in this novel. I have that bracelet with me now. It was given to me when my grandmother passed away. I keep it, and all the memories that came with it, in a silver pouch.

  Maral Haroutinian Boyadjian

  A C K N O W L E D G M E N T S

  Many thanks to those who picked up my newly completed, very raw manuscript with enthusiasm and for all their markings in the margins: Vahe Berberian, James Sabina, and Markar Melkonian. Thanks to Helena Gregorian for her many talents and for her passion for the characters themselves and to Michael Nahabet for his ready and skillful assistance.

  I thank Nigel Yorwerth and Patricia Spadaro of Yorwerth Associates for their warm guidance and expertise in all aspects of publishing this book as well as their editorial and design team, including Anne Barthel, who transformed my words into a living, breathing adventure. A special thanks to Salpi H. Ghazarian for a priceless amount of everything, but mostly for handing me my first book to read in our little room all those years ago.

  There are two brothers, Garabed and Diran Bag, who made my journey to Sassoun possible. I will be forever grateful to them for their kindness and generosity.

  Lastly, all my gratitude and love go to my daughter, Kareen; my son, Kevo; my niece Nahreen; and most especially my husband, Shahe, for their belief and pride in me.

  All the characters in this book are fictional, but they are as real to me as the members of my own family. I had to tell their story because they could not.

  G L O S S A R Y

  Terms from Arabic, Armenian, Kurdish,

  Turkish used in the region

  Asdvadz: God

  baba: Daddy

  bakhlava: Pastry made of flaky dough, filled with nuts and honey

  barakata: Blessing

  chorek: Sweet, doughy bread, like a brioche, baked, patterned and decorated for Easter

  dada: Grandfather

  dade: Grandmother

  dan pesa: A usually penniless son-in-law who has married the daughter of a family and comes to live with her family

  daross: Good wishes bestowed upon participants and guests at weddings, baptisms and happy occasions

  divan: A long backless, armless sofa, set against a wall

  fedayee: Freedom fighter

  fez: Brimless, cone-shaped, flat-topped hat, usually with a single tassel attached

  gata: A golden, disc-like pastry filled with butter, flour and sugar

  gendarme: Police

  giaour: Infidel; used to slur non-Muslims, particularly Armenians, Greeks, Assyrians

  han: An inn or hostel; a caravanseray

  hars: Daughter-in-law, or bride

  hayrig: Father

  khnami: A family member through marriage, male or female

  kiz: Girl

  merhaba: Hello

  mixtar/mukhtar: Village leader

  oghee: A clear distilled spirit made from fruits or berries

  pasha: Honorary title for highly ranked officers, placed after the person’s name

  pesa: Son-in-law, or groom

  Sassountzi: A resident of Sassoun

  shalvar: Wide-legged, wide-seated trousers worn throughout the Ottoman Empire and farther east

  tahn: A beverage of yogurt and water, beaten until smooth, with salt and dill or mint

  toneer: An oven dug into the ground or floor

  vilayets: Administrative divisions in the Ottoman Empire, provinces

  Xuda: God

  Photo by Mher Vahakn

  MARAL BOYADJIAN wove together the memories of her four grandparents, all survivors of the Armenian Genocide, with her love for historical fiction to create the beautiful love story in As the Poppies Bloomed. She lives in Granada Hills, California, with her husband and two children. To learn more about Maral and her work, visit www.maralboyadjian.com