Haroutun Kevorkian with his fellow ARF comrades
BY MARY NAJARIAN
Author’s Note: About seven years ago, I became aware that my father, Haroutun Kevorkian had left behind a 250 page hand-written autobiography spanning the years 1903-1955. I have decided to tell my father’s story by translating it from Armenian into English. This task is much harder than simple translation. The stories are horrendous, painful, and heart wrenching. Every time I start translating, I end up in tears and remain sleepless all night. How did my 12-year-old father and the thousands of children like him endure, and survive? Here are a few pages from my father’s diary.
Sako Apar
In 1912, my father Krikor Kevorkian killed a Turkish Genderme in self-defense. The village elders arranged that he leave Vasgerd, go to Marseille, France , and then to America for the safety of all. My brother Garabed was born four months after my dad had left. We were anxiously waiting for my father to settle and take us to America , but it never happened. Few days before the death march started, our Turk neighbor, Khadre Khanem told my mother: “When they make you leave your homes, and displace you, leave Haroot behind. I will take care of him. If you come back, he is yours, if you don’t come back, he is mine.â€
