Aravot presents the memories of Lebanese-Armenian blogger Bedros Manoukian regarding the 15-year war in Lebanon, its aftermath, and the attitudes of Armenian families.
Read the beginning here.
And then came 1996, the most emotional phase of my whole life. I was young and full of motivation, passion, and hope, but I had my first deepest heartbreak. I was seriously involved emotionally with a white-skinned girl. I called her snow-white girl and did not even realize I was getting deeply attached to her. I was a salesman, and therefore I had grown daring, bold, brave, aggressive, self-confident, talkative, extremely easy to be self-expressive, and even overconfident. I never had trouble talking to any girl, I was never shy, but when I spoke, I felt a strange sensation of heat in my face. It never bothered me; I kept talking calmly and confidently. She did not realize my tension. I did succeed in my usual tactics, for she was amused by my overconfident maneuvers, and she was having fun, but I never understood why my physical body reacted like this, while my mental abilities were unchanged. Until the day came when she emigrated, like dozens of my friends, both Christian and Armenian, when I knew she was going to leave, and I’ll never see her again…
Imagine the sudden unexpected deep pain I felt at the age of 21, the last day we had a party to say goodbye to her. Israel attacked on a full scale, and Snow White left three days later…
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When she left, it was like a slap in the face. An emotional sudden slap – unexpected, the emotional, political, ideological and ideological battle that followed was mixed with love, pain, hatred and anger. It was full of wounds and pain because I realized I loved her madly, passionately, I longed for the clouds to come and take me to her. I felt hatred and fury, rage, a raging revolution. The Syrian occupation deprived me of all my friends, my childhood friends were leaving Lebanon one by one, and even though I was earning a lot of money as a salesman, my motivation died, my desire faded, my soul and spirit was broken, my speaking courage obeyed the frustration, lost its power. I remember a business deal that would have made me $300 in two hours, but I did not go for it. I lost all interest. I went to clubs and listened to intense rock music. Pain was the only thing that reminded me of her. When I listened to soft rock music, her face started to become visible in my mind. I continued to miss the pain. Pain was my friend.
I was trying to aggravate and intensify the pain by listening to soft rock. Needless to say, I became aggressive, my fury and rage knew no bounds. Lebanon not only lost its freedom but also peace. The war had supposedly ended, yet my unfelt love left in the summer of 1996. Israel attacked us three days later after she left. The next day, our friends who went to the airport to tell her goodbye said she kept crying at the airport. I was not at the airport. If I had been there, she would have realized that I was worshiping her madly, and she would have felt more confused.
That night, I was at home cursing the enemies of Lebanon. That hellish night I was obliged to declare holy war on anyone who wanted to annex Lebanon to his state. No compromise, no forgiveness, no reconciliation, no quarter, they destroyed me, they destroyed the optimism and passion of the young man, my love turned into hatred, and I was to start my vendetta.
And the 1996 elections came, the Christians boycotted the elections, I considered the elections a Syrian organized forged theater. The Armenian parties decided to be “pragmatic, realistic” and compiled a united electoral list. My anger erupted to rage and hysteria. I declared this as a huge HISTORICAL mistake. I argued that the Lebanese-Armenians left a huge negative impression, I said. “We cannot afford to appear numb and indifferent to Lebanon. By participating in this election, we are losing neutrality.” (Lebanese Armenian political parties declared and remained neutral during the Lebanese war, they declared the slogan “positive neutrality”)
I said that by going to the elections, we chose a side- the wrong side. My outspoken opposition intensified in my political environment, and finally the leaders decided to satisfy my demand for an open debate with me. I came to the debate as a complete beginner with baby steps. My opponent brought all his political experience, cunning tactics, skills, and vicious methods. I brought my heart and passion.
Needless to say, I was broken, defeated; he even used bad tactics, played with my nerves, interrupted. The crowd was against me, I was defeated, I was crushed, my first political debate ended in my devastation. I lost the debate badly; David did not beat Goliath. This never depressed me. A week later, my chance came. The Lebanese forces, the banned party, the nationalist force was to organize a march against the Syrian occupation, I did not have to wait twice. Without hesitation, I joined, and brought along, as moral ammunition, my pain, my love, love for lost love, for the homeland, my passion, my hatred and my rage towards the occupier. I had lost my snow-white love, but I would do my best to help the republic regain its freedom and sovereignty.
To my surprise, I was not an isolated case, I saw the caravans of Lebanese-Armenians inside the parade, and later, they had a single message. “We are grateful that we are here to defend Lebanon, alongside other Lebanese.” Thus, hundreds of Lebanese-Armenians joined the Lebanese forces, the Phalange and the free patriotic movement. I defended all three, but in the end I chose the preference of Lebanese forces, rightwing Lebanese nationalist Christians. In 2000, the Lebanese forces asked me to sit down and listen…
Nabil Nasser, he was like a second father to me. He said, “Bedik, for four years you have served the cause, the national cause, faithfully, with devotion and dedication, with honor and sincerity, now you will have another duty. It is your duty to reconcile with the Lebanese-Armenian community; some Armenians are now beginning to see what you saw four years ago. Please go and reconcile with your Armenian political friends. You can best serve the cause not in the ranks of the Lebanese forces, but within your Armenian community. We are your eternal friends.”
2000 was the year of my return to the Lebanese-Armenian environment, my return to my Lebanese-Armenian family. The “Cedar Revolution” began in 2005, the Lebanese-Armenian forces adopted the principles I had been calling for back in 1996: crushed, wounded, defeated, and cornered. In the year 2007, I had my gift. The same person who destroyed and crucified me in the 1996 debate said: “Comrade Bedik, We were all wrong back then. You turned out to be correct.”
