Arslanian family, 1914
Boghos and Haigouhi with Harry and little Myron in 1925.
This is the Genocide survival story of my father‘s mother, my Grandmother, Haigouhi Arakelian Arslanian Khederian, born in 1895 to Boghos & Tourvanda (Kalfayan) Arakelian. Haigouhi grew up in Yozgat, Turkey with her three brothers, Arakel, Levon, & Garabed, along with her sister Zarouhi.
At the age of 17, Haigouhi married Asadour Arslanian, also of Yozgat, through an arranged marriage. The year was 1912. Asadour was a personable businessman working for Metropolitan Life Insurance Company. He was the first salesman to sell life insurance to the residents of Turkey. Asadour had 2 brothers, one a lawyer and the other a businessman dealing with imports and exports.
Haigouhi and her new husband Asadour soon had a child in January of 1913, Harry Asadour Arslanian.
This 1914 family photo above shows my Grandmother Haigouhi on the far left with her husband Asadour next to her. Asadour's two brothers and sister are standing next to him. Seated are Asadour's parents, with baby Harry in the lap of Asadour's mother. The girl in front is Asadour's little sister Vergin (Virginia).
In 1915, all the men in this Arslanian family photo were dragged out of their family home in Yozgat and murdered by Turkish soldiers. Asadour was shot and killed along with his two brothers and father in front of their family home.
It was now 1915, and the Armenian Genocide had begun. The Turkish Government wanted to eliminate Armenian intellectuals first, and the Arslanian men fit into that category.
The Turkish soldiers then came back into the Arslanian home, yelling for any other males in the house. Haigouhi’s baby Harry was still in the house, and the women knew if the soldiers found him, they’d kill him for being an Armenian male. The frightened women desperately hid baby Harry under a pile of blankets, with Asadour’s little sister Virginia sitting on top of him. They prayed little Harry would not cry.
Luckily baby Harry remained silent under the blankets. The soldiers then sternly gave an order: the women must leave Yozgat by morning. The women were devastated by the killings they’d just witnessed, but they gathered up all they could carry. My grandmother Haigouhi could only manage little Harry. Asadour’s little sister Virginia helped by carrying some food, a few belongings, and the family photo.
The following day, the women began to walk from their family home in Yozgat into the unknown. This walk is what was eventually known as the "Death March"... the long line of Armenian women, children, and elders who were forced from their homes, following each other into the hot desert.
Haigouhi’s mother-in-law sadly did not survive the death march, succumbing to heat, starvation, and exhaustion, as well as dying of a broken heart after watching her husband and three sons shot to death. Although Virginia and her sister were devastated to lose their mother, they had no choice but to continue on.
Twenty year old Haigouhi carried Harry in her arms day after day, for weeks and months. They walked through Turkey, hiding Harry, disguising him as a girl. They were occasionally able to take shelter in “safe houses” along the way.
One time a family hid them in their dry well for a few days. They lowered baby Harry, Haigouhi, Virginia, and Virginia's sister down the well in buckets. The four of them hid in the dark, muddy, awful smelling bottom of the well all day long. They waited there each day until the Turkish soldiers came through looking for Armenians. If Harry had cried or made a sound in the well, they would have been discovered, and Turkish soldiers would have killed them all. It was a life of constant fear.
Haigouhi and the others found whatever they could for food, sometimes eating grass along the way. If they found poppies, they picked them. They could use the poppies to give to Turkish men in exchange for food, because the men would use the poppies to make opium.
If they reached a town center, little Virginia would go to the markets to beg or steal whatever little food she could. She would often get beaten by the food sellers. If there was a barrel of honey, Virginia would dip her hand in the honey, and then dip her hand in nuts, oats, or wheat. Then Virginia would run to Haigouhi and the others, who would lick the honey, nuts, and grain off her fingers. This was the only nourishment they would have for their entire day.
The group would then move to the next town, looking through garbage wherever they would go. While looking through trash piles for food, they would sometimes have the good fortune of finding rags or scraps of material. The women would then use the bits of material to sew clothes for dolls or babies.
Virginia would try to sell these baby clothes to passersby in the next town. Whatever money she could get was used to buy food at the market to survive until the next day.
Haigouhi, Virginia, Virginia's older sister and little Harry lived like this for five long years through the Middle East & Syria. They never knew from one day to the next where their next meal was coming from, nor where they would sleep for the night. They were nomadic refugees, who would walk day after day, from place to place, with little more than the clothes on their backs.
In 1918, the Turkish killings of the Armenians had ended, but Haigouhi and the others continued their nomadic life, with no place to call home.
By 1920, the Red Cross had become involved in the Middle East, trying to reunite displaced Armenian refugees with any of their living family members. Although Haigouhi only spoke Armenian and Turkish, the Red Cross informed her that two of her brothers were alive. Haigouhi’s brothers Levon & Garabed were alive and living in America!
Levon and Garabed arranged to send Haigouhi money to buy tickets to America. It was an incredible relief that family members were about to rescue Haigouhi from her life of fear and homelessness. Haigouhi was going to America!
Haigouhi, little Harry, Virginia, and Virginia’s sister got themselves to Greece where they boarded the USS Pannonia on April 4, 1920. After two long months at sea, the ship landed in Ellis Island, New York on June 7, 1920.
Haigouhi was now 25, and Harry was a boy of 7. The group had endured five long frightening years together as nomads. Now they were about to enter a foreign country where they spoke not a word of English, but they were no longer homeless, hungry, hiding, and scared for their lives.
After getting through the processing at Ellis Island, Haigouhi was reunited with her two brothers Levon and Garabed. Haigouhi learned that her oldest brother Arakel had been murdered by Turkish soldiers in 1915, and his wife Shnorig died in the death march with their two babies.
Haigouhi also learned that Arakel’s oldest son Badrig, her nephew, was alive, and had been living in an orphanage, along with Haigouhi’s younger sister Zarouhi. The brothers sent money for Zarouhi and Badrig to buy tickets to America too.
The large group lived with Levon and Garabed Arakelian in Philadelphia, a popular region where many residents of Yozgat had settled. The blended family now lived together under one roof in crowded living quarters.
Virginia and her sister eventually moved on and settled in Chicago with relatives. Virginia ended up in California, where she worked as a talented seamstress. She was hired as the head seamstress for Elizabeth Arden in Beverly Hills. Her clients included Hollywood elites, who gave her tips of several hundred dollars per fitting. This was a far cry from her days of trying to steal a few nuts to survive each day.
After several months of the Arakelians living together in Philadelphia, Haigouhi was introduced to Boghos Khederian from Boston, who soon asked for her hand in marriage. They were married in Philadelphia in 1922, and settled in Massachusetts for the rest of their lives.
Boghos Khederian had not been involved in the Genocide. Boghos was born in 1889 in Kayseri, Turkey (historically named Caesarea). Boghos and his brothers Assadoor and Garabed immigrated to America in the early 1900’s, after hearing rumblings that the Turkish government would be causing more trouble for the Armenians. They left behind their parents, grandparents, and four younger siblings in Kayseri, all of whom tragically perished during the Genocide.
In 1923, Haigouhi and Boghos had their first child, my father, Myron Paul Khederian. In 1926, Haigouhi and Boghos had a second son named Henry. Then, in 1932, they were blessed with their only daughter, who they named Anahid (Anita).
In Massachusetts, Boghos and his brother Garabed (Charles) opened a grocery store called Kidder Brothers Market in Roslindale, where my grandfather Boghos was the butcher. However, after the Great Depression, their business folded.
Boghos and Haigouhi then moved their family to Somerville, where Boghos opened another small market. Eventually Boghos and Haigouhi moved their family to Belmont. But in the late 1930's, my grandfather Boghos's health failed, and he sadly passed away in 1941 at the age of 52.
Boghos’s death left Haigouhi a devastated young widow of 46. However, she had a useful talent from her years of sewing those small scraps of cloth to make clothes during the Genocide. Haigouhi had also taught herself to sew on a sewing machine. So after Boghos died, Haigouhi was hired as a seamstress for Eastern Coat Company in Watertown, making high class men’s coats and suits.
Haigouhi was a caring, hard-working mother of four, and loving grandmother to six. She had survived the Armenian Genocide and made a life for herself in America, and became very involved with the St. Stephen’s Armenian Church community in Watertown. Haigouhi was a gifted seamstress, knitter, and crocheter. She was also a talented cook and baker, whose specialties included souboereg, manti, choereg, khourabia, and ashma (katah).
My grandmother Haigouhi Khederian, who we affectionately called Grammy, passed away in 1972 at the age of 77, after a day of baking Armenian delicacies for Thanksgiving. Her son Harry lived a long happy life as a devoted husband, father, and grandfather, passing away at the age of 92.
My grandmother Haigouhi never learned to speak much English in her life. She never spoke to me or her other grandchildren about the Genocide. She never mentioned the horrific shootings in Yozgat, or the atrocities she witnessed on the death march. Like other Genocide survivors, her experiences during those five frightening years were all too painful for her to talk about. Grammy smiled and laughed often, but there was always a fear and sadness she carried with her from her days of living through the Genocide.
As a child, I would spend my Saturdays with my grandmother after Armenian school. As I would work on my Armenian studies with Grammy, I sometimes asked her about the Genocide. All she ever replied were these broken English words into my ear: “Never trust a Turk”. That’s all she ever said, but she’d say those words in a loud whisper, as if she were still frightened for her life. Turkish soldiers had killed her precious family members and had destroyed the life she had made back in Yozgat, a life I’m sure she thought of often, but never spoke about.
I have carried my grandmother’s story in my head and heart my whole life.
I am now able to be my grandmother’s voice, and am grateful for this opportunity to share her tale of survival through the Armenian Genocide...a story which was too painful for her to ever retell on her own.