Special for the Armenian Weekly
Every Armenian family has the same story: persecution, fear, robbery,
rape, murder … genocide … and the unknown. They say there can never be
closure without the ability to mourn over the grave of a loved one. The
denial of the Armenian Genocide by the Turkish government surely hinders
closure, but for the survivors, never knowing what had happened to
those left behind or lost during the death marches into the Syrian
desert remained an equally harmful open wound.
My maternal grandmother had four sisters. One rescued my grandmother
from the six years she had been living as a slave and the two of them
ultimately found their way to the United States. Another sister starved
to death in an orphanage. The two remaining sisters, one 17 and one an
infant, were sent to the Syrian desert with their mother, and none were
ever heard from again.
Each time I travel to Western Armenia, I meet hidden
Armenians—“remnants of the sword”—and many are searching for relatives
thought to have escaped to the United States or elsewhere.
Unfortunately, most often all that is known is a name: Garabed, Mariam,
etc. Much too vague to allow for any connection to be made, even in the
rare case where a village of origin is known. Most don’t even know the
village, as their mother or grandmother was plucked from the caravans
and only knew they were from Kharpert or Palu or some other region.
A year and a half ago, I joined the Armenian DNA Project through
Family Tree DNA. While I was interested in my ancient DNA and the
migration of man out of Africa, what really motivated me was the hope of
connecting with descendants thought murdered during the genocide.
Possibly descendants of the sisters my grandmother never heard from
after they were sent to the desert. I wanted to bring them back from the
dead.
In DNA testing, relationships are measured in shared centiMorgans
(cMs), a way to quantify the probabilities. Both the total shared cMs
and the longest segment are considered when determining the most likely
relationship between two people. Segments longer than 10 shared cMs are
generally thought to be indicative of a common ancestor.
For example, through testing, it has been shown that grandchildren
have shared cMs with their grandparent that range from 875-2,365, with
an average of 1,760. At the same time, a person could have shared cMs of
236-1,301 with a great aunt or uncle. So, based solely on that, if you
were to have shared cMs of 900 with someone, their relationship to you
could be anywhere from a grandchild/grandparent to a first cousin, once
removed.
When I first received my DNA results, there were a handful of people
who were identified as distant relatives by Family Tree DNA—as 4th or 5th
cousins. Our shared cM was generally in the range of 30-40, with the
longest segment of between 10 and 15. I contacted a few of these people
and our knowledge was too scant to determine with any certainty how we
might be related. Regardless, the common ancestor was very distant.
Last summer, while traveling in Western Armenia with the Arzoumanian
family who also happened to hail from my grandfather’s village of
Burunkishla in the Boghazliyan district of Yozgat, we discussed our
possible relationship. They decided to have their father, Hrair, tested.
The results showed we were 2nd or 3rd cousins;
our shared cM was 132 with numerous segments over 15 cM and the longest
30 cM. Clearly, we were very closely related, which was not a complete
surprise, although it was exciting to finally confirm a previously
unknown relationship.
Based on our combined knowledge of family history, we believe Hrair’s
maternal grandmother was a sibling to one of my great-grandparents.
Again, so much family history was lost during the genocide that it is
impossible to determine exactly at this time.
Then, about a month ago, the moment I had been hoping for: I received a hit on my DNA that was either a 1st or 2nd
cousin, and it was someone living in Turkey! For perspective, our total
shared cMs were 400 with a longest common segment of 90. This was a
much closer relative and someone I knew nothing about. Could it be a
descendant of my grandmother’s sisters?
I sent an e-mail to the man and waited impatiently for four days.
Then, the response: The mother of the man tested was known to be
Armenian. I was conversing with his son and this is the story he told.
In 1915, two sisters from Maden begin the march to certain death. The
older of the sisters is a beautiful and clever young girl. Along the
way, a cavalry officer desires to marry her. She agrees to do this in
order to save her little sister. In fact, she demands that the younger
sister be protected and live with them. Thus begins their new lives in
Chermoug as Muslims.
While living with her older sister, a Muslim man sees the younger
sister and falls in love. They marry and live in Chungush. Soon, three
children are born. However, the husband dies young. The dead man’s
brother marries his Armenian widow sister-in-law to care for his
orphaned niece and nephews, and they have three additional sons
together. The man whose DNA was tested was a son from this second
marriage.
The older sister would have a son who died young. She died soon thereafter, leaving no surviving offspring.
While the story would seem to match what might have become of my
grandmother’s sisters, the places and names did not match that side of
my family. Instead, the names of the parents of those two orphan
Armenian girls matched the names of my father’s great-grandparents. In
addition, my great-grandmother was born in Maden.
I wrote the story of my great-grandmother, Nevart Antreassian, in an article on the Georgetown Girls.
Nevart’s sister, Angel, also survived and came to the United States. 25
years ago, when I first started researching my family history, I spoke
to Angel’s husband, Khoren Krikorian, and an aunt about what was known
of the family. I do not know how Angel survived 1915, but it was most
likely through an orphanage in Kharpert, since in 1920 she graduated
from Yeprad Varjaran. Around 1922, she left for Lebanon in the final wave of missionaries, orphans, and other desperate remnants.
As for my great-grandmother, Nevart, by the time of these events she
was already married and living in Diyarbakir with children of her own.
Her husband conscripted into the Ottoman army and presumed dead, Nevart
endured the march to Aleppo with her two young children.
In looking through my folder from 25 years ago, I found a page of
handwritten notes from a phone conversation with my aunt about Nevart’s
family. It was sparse, fragments here and there: father was a
horseshoer, etc.
Then, two words written at the bottom: “another sister.” In talking
with my parents, they knew nothing of this, but of course so much time
has gone by. But what is now known is that the woman in question was my
great-grandmother’s sister.
So many questions remain and most likely will never be answered.
Why the mention of only one sister? Could the older sister really
have been the mother trying to protect her daughter? How could Angel
have been in Kharpert until 1922 and not known her sister was alive in
Chungush? Was this a situation, like so many others, where after forced
marriage, conversion to Islam, and children, these “remnants of the
sword” considered themselves dead to their Armenian families and were
treated as such by the Armenian community?
Not surprisingly, my newfound relatives in Turkey have another
Armenian grandmother in the family. She was born in the village of Havav
in Palu and as late as the 1930’s she was still in correspondence with
her brother in New York. Based on a letter written in Ottoman Turkish in
1934, I have identified this family as well.
It is said that the two Armenian girls, now sisters-in-law, were very close and their families’ love for them is evident.
Our mutual excitement at having found lost relatives after 100 years
knows no bounds. Over the past month, we have been sharing pictures and
stories and anxiously await the day when we can meet in person.
Interestingly, based on where and when I have traveled through Western
Armenia, it seems we know some of the same people and may have actually
been together without ever knowing our family connection.
The people in this story remain victims of genocide, but they no
longer are tallied in the dead. The 1.5 million has been reduced by 2.
For those wishing to learn more about the Armenian DNA Project, visit https://www.familytreedna.com/groups/armeniadnaproject/about/background.
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