Friday, November 29, 1991
Survival - One Tale of the Armenian Genocide
A part of Grandpa Boujoulian's Story
Dictated On November 29, 1991
Updated March 27, 1996
Transcribed & Interpreted by Ray, Dan & Chrissy Boujoulian
Reformatted by Dan on January 7, 1999
In 1915, Armenians were living in Turkey under Turkish rule. The Turkish government believed that Armenians, being Christians, were a threat to them. They decided to get rid of all the Armenians and would take their belongings, property and businesses. First, they took all the able body adult men into the Turkish army. Then, they put the women & children on freight wagons that took them out of Turkey to the outskirts of the Arabian Desert. They made us walk for about three months, towards Iraq, Baghdad.
When we approached small towns or tents, Arabs would try to sell us bread & drinking water. Whatever money we had ran out quickly so we traded our jewelry and our clothing. Meanwhile, the heat of the Sun was taking its toll on our people, many were getting sick & dying along the roadside.
My father, Nazareth Boujoulian was carrying the few belongings we had. He wasn't feeling good and every so often he would tell us, "I have to rest a while." One evening, we could not find him. Later we found out that he had been robbed and killed like many others. The tragedy was unbearable. My Mother got sick, too. My legs were swollen from walking and my sister was crying.
Meanwhile, Arabs would ask parents to give away their girls to them, they asked our Mother, too. At that time, Mother couldn't answer yes or no. Two Arabs grabbed my sister and me taking us away. We were treated like slaves.
The mans house that I ended up at never had a son, so he called me his "adopted son." The man that took my sister had an old mother and father. He wanted my sister to take care of his parents. Fortunately sister and I were in the same village and whenever I had the chance I used to walk to go see her. We would talk about what happened to us, but we had no idea what happened to our mother or where she had gone. At that time there was no way of communicating with anyone outside of our community. After a while we met a few Armenian kids like us, but no one knew what happened to the rest of the Armenians. I used to do all the housework and work on the farm. We must have been in the little town of Tlafar for about three years. One fine evening, as I was bringing our horse a load of wheat from our farm, I noticed a tired traveler resting in our yard. It was the custom at that time that people traveling from town to town would walk during the day and rest at night in whatever town they stopped. This man called me over to him and asked, "what is your name?" I said my name is Usif Aziz, he said, "no, what is your real name?" He explained that he was an Armenian and was in the Turkish army when he heard the Turks made his family leave Turkey and go to the desert like my family was forced to.
He was trying to find his lost family. After our dinner I asked my boss if I could take some leftover food to the poor tired traveler. He said yes so I got a large pan, filled it with food and took it to the man. He ate, enjoyed and he thanked me very much, he asked my Armenian name, I said "Stephen Boujoulian" early the next morning he had gone on his way. In a few days he arrived in Baghdad.
Baghdad is where the majority of the Armenians that were left alive gathered after over 1,500,000 Armenians where massacred. He was telling a group of other Armenians about his traveling experiences. He spoke about a few children he had seen along the way and he mentioned a name that he had not forgotten, the boy that gave him a dish of food, Stephen Boujoulian. By fate, my uncle Hagop happened to be there. He could not believe what he heard, his lost nephew Stephen had been seen, Uncle jumped up and asked this man, "do you know what town this boy was in?" Luckily, he remembered the town was Tlafar / Tell Afar / Tall 'Afar. Meantime, our mother who had luckily survived, was working as a housemaid for a wealthy couple that liked her very much. They heard mother crying every night when she retired to her quarters and they asked "what troubles you?" She said, "I had a boy and a lovely girl, I lost them in the desert and I don't know where they are." Her master said if you tell me what town they are in, I will try to find them, mother said I have no idea where they are or what has happened to them. Meanwhile, Uncle Hagop came to bring the news about our whereabouts to Mother. She could not believe it but she told her boss, this kind man was a big government executive and he sent out a government stamped letter to the sheriff at Tlafar. The sheriff took the letter and gave it to my boss. My Arab boss couldn't read so the sheriff read the letter to him. The letter read "this boy and his sister are wanted by the government in the city of Baghdad." My boss took the letter, tore it up. He argued "this boy's mother was dying when I adopted him." He sent the sheriff away. For a few weeks nothing happened, mothers boss appealed to higher authorities. At that same time, two government officers had to go to our town on big government business, so they were given new orders to pick up this boy and girl. One fine day, these two officers came to our house. They asked for Stephen this time my boss got scared and said "I will bring the boy to the sheriffs place after dinner."
My boss told me "now, I will take you there. I will ask you "do you want to go with these two men or do you want to stay with me?" You must say "I want to stay with my boss." He meant it, and I was afraid of him. When we got to the sheriff's place, they had my sister there already. By the time my boss had a chance to say anything, my sister grabbed me and pulled me towards her and did not let go. The sheriff escorted my boss out, in a few days, early in the cool of the morning a 12 camel governmental wheat shipment was going to Baghdad, they put us in that shipment. It was a 24 hour journey and they had to travel in the cool of the night. Unfortunately the shipment was attacked by robbers.Our few guards defended the shipment and us, next morning we arrived in Baghdad safely. They took us to the police station and a messenger took us to a big house. The man rang the bell, a lady approached the door. She looked like our dear Mother, we were shocked and surprised to see her. We hugged each other, and kissed our crying mother. The Lady boss came down with a jug of cold water and took us in. She was happy and crying with us. We found mother much older than before, yet we felt like we were in a wonderful dreamland.
It was unbelievable, what we had gone through. For a while, sister stayed and helped mother. Uncle took me to his shoe store to help him. Mother was concerned about us not getting any schooling. She found out that if she in an orphanage, we will get some schooling. She succeeded, and had us put in one. In the meantime, throughout the ordeal, she became so ill that she needed to be hospitalized. Her resistance was very low. In a short time, bless her sweet memory, she passed away.
While in her dying bed she had written to her brother Takvor in Canada, informing him of her condition. "I wish you could try to take my two unfortunate children under your wing," she pled. He promised he was going to do his best. We buried mother in some Armenian section of the cemetary. Meantime, the orphanage closed. We got some housework in a short time. We got letters from Uncle Takvor that we should get ready, one of these days we will get our passage to Winnipeg, Canada. About 15 days later we arrived at Uncle & Aunts' home. They received us graciously, sister stayed home with them, they put in school about 6 months I could not speak or understand English, so they took me out of school so I could learn tailoring during working hours in a tailor store. I also learned to ice skate but I froze my fingers. They were bandaged for 3 months, all my nails fell out. By this time I learned English. Uncle's business was not too busy so I went to look for outside work, there was no openings so I opened my own little tailor shop. I didn't have a lease so in a few years I was forced to leave because they wanted my location to build new apartments. Meantime my sister had gotten married and moved to Troy, New York. Since I had no store, sister insisted I go pay her a visit, so I went.
On my return home I stopped in Windsor, Canada and got a job with Postian Oriental Rug Company. After working there a few years, on one fine day, the Gedikians (Armina & Her parents) came from Detroit for a visit to the Postian family, on their departure her brother invited me to come and visit them, they will take me to Armenian affairs & dances. There and then I got acquainted with Armina and after a few years of courtship, we got engaged. We were married in Detroit. After staying in Windsor we decided to move to Detroit, we started a tailor shop, we rented a little flat, and next we were blessed by the birth of a little girl we named Doris. Four years later we were blessed with a brother for Doris that we named Raymond. We had our tailor shop about 7 years, my health told us to sell out. I went to my Uncle Takvor's in Winnipeg to recuperate, when I came back to my loved ones, I went to work for Saks Fifth Avenue, a few years later I went to work for Harry Suffrins and Hughes & Hatcher. Since my retirement I have been working part-time for my Son.
Stephen Nazarath Boujoulian
May 1, 1909 - March 27, 1996
Dictated On November 29, 1991
Updated March 27, 1996
Transcribed & Interpreted by Ray, Dan & Chrissy Boujoulian
Reformatted by Dan on January 7, 1999
In 1915, Armenians were living in Turkey under Turkish rule. The Turkish government believed that Armenians, being Christians, were a threat to them. They decided to get rid of all the Armenians and would take their belongings, property and businesses. First, they took all the able body adult men into the Turkish army. Then, they put the women & children on freight wagons that took them out of Turkey to the outskirts of the Arabian Desert. They made us walk for about three months, towards Iraq, Baghdad.
When we approached small towns or tents, Arabs would try to sell us bread & drinking water. Whatever money we had ran out quickly so we traded our jewelry and our clothing. Meanwhile, the heat of the Sun was taking its toll on our people, many were getting sick & dying along the roadside.
My father, Nazareth Boujoulian was carrying the few belongings we had. He wasn't feeling good and every so often he would tell us, "I have to rest a while." One evening, we could not find him. Later we found out that he had been robbed and killed like many others. The tragedy was unbearable. My Mother got sick, too. My legs were swollen from walking and my sister was crying.
Meanwhile, Arabs would ask parents to give away their girls to them, they asked our Mother, too. At that time, Mother couldn't answer yes or no. Two Arabs grabbed my sister and me taking us away. We were treated like slaves.
The mans house that I ended up at never had a son, so he called me his "adopted son." The man that took my sister had an old mother and father. He wanted my sister to take care of his parents. Fortunately sister and I were in the same village and whenever I had the chance I used to walk to go see her. We would talk about what happened to us, but we had no idea what happened to our mother or where she had gone. At that time there was no way of communicating with anyone outside of our community. After a while we met a few Armenian kids like us, but no one knew what happened to the rest of the Armenians. I used to do all the housework and work on the farm. We must have been in the little town of Tlafar for about three years. One fine evening, as I was bringing our horse a load of wheat from our farm, I noticed a tired traveler resting in our yard. It was the custom at that time that people traveling from town to town would walk during the day and rest at night in whatever town they stopped. This man called me over to him and asked, "what is your name?" I said my name is Usif Aziz, he said, "no, what is your real name?" He explained that he was an Armenian and was in the Turkish army when he heard the Turks made his family leave Turkey and go to the desert like my family was forced to.
He was trying to find his lost family. After our dinner I asked my boss if I could take some leftover food to the poor tired traveler. He said yes so I got a large pan, filled it with food and took it to the man. He ate, enjoyed and he thanked me very much, he asked my Armenian name, I said "Stephen Boujoulian" early the next morning he had gone on his way. In a few days he arrived in Baghdad.
Baghdad is where the majority of the Armenians that were left alive gathered after over 1,500,000 Armenians where massacred. He was telling a group of other Armenians about his traveling experiences. He spoke about a few children he had seen along the way and he mentioned a name that he had not forgotten, the boy that gave him a dish of food, Stephen Boujoulian. By fate, my uncle Hagop happened to be there. He could not believe what he heard, his lost nephew Stephen had been seen, Uncle jumped up and asked this man, "do you know what town this boy was in?" Luckily, he remembered the town was Tlafar / Tell Afar / Tall 'Afar. Meantime, our mother who had luckily survived, was working as a housemaid for a wealthy couple that liked her very much. They heard mother crying every night when she retired to her quarters and they asked "what troubles you?" She said, "I had a boy and a lovely girl, I lost them in the desert and I don't know where they are." Her master said if you tell me what town they are in, I will try to find them, mother said I have no idea where they are or what has happened to them. Meanwhile, Uncle Hagop came to bring the news about our whereabouts to Mother. She could not believe it but she told her boss, this kind man was a big government executive and he sent out a government stamped letter to the sheriff at Tlafar. The sheriff took the letter and gave it to my boss. My Arab boss couldn't read so the sheriff read the letter to him. The letter read "this boy and his sister are wanted by the government in the city of Baghdad." My boss took the letter, tore it up. He argued "this boy's mother was dying when I adopted him." He sent the sheriff away. For a few weeks nothing happened, mothers boss appealed to higher authorities. At that same time, two government officers had to go to our town on big government business, so they were given new orders to pick up this boy and girl. One fine day, these two officers came to our house. They asked for Stephen this time my boss got scared and said "I will bring the boy to the sheriffs place after dinner."
My boss told me "now, I will take you there. I will ask you "do you want to go with these two men or do you want to stay with me?" You must say "I want to stay with my boss." He meant it, and I was afraid of him. When we got to the sheriff's place, they had my sister there already. By the time my boss had a chance to say anything, my sister grabbed me and pulled me towards her and did not let go. The sheriff escorted my boss out, in a few days, early in the cool of the morning a 12 camel governmental wheat shipment was going to Baghdad, they put us in that shipment. It was a 24 hour journey and they had to travel in the cool of the night. Unfortunately the shipment was attacked by robbers.Our few guards defended the shipment and us, next morning we arrived in Baghdad safely. They took us to the police station and a messenger took us to a big house. The man rang the bell, a lady approached the door. She looked like our dear Mother, we were shocked and surprised to see her. We hugged each other, and kissed our crying mother. The Lady boss came down with a jug of cold water and took us in. She was happy and crying with us. We found mother much older than before, yet we felt like we were in a wonderful dreamland.
It was unbelievable, what we had gone through. For a while, sister stayed and helped mother. Uncle took me to his shoe store to help him. Mother was concerned about us not getting any schooling. She found out that if she in an orphanage, we will get some schooling. She succeeded, and had us put in one. In the meantime, throughout the ordeal, she became so ill that she needed to be hospitalized. Her resistance was very low. In a short time, bless her sweet memory, she passed away.
While in her dying bed she had written to her brother Takvor in Canada, informing him of her condition. "I wish you could try to take my two unfortunate children under your wing," she pled. He promised he was going to do his best. We buried mother in some Armenian section of the cemetary. Meantime, the orphanage closed. We got some housework in a short time. We got letters from Uncle Takvor that we should get ready, one of these days we will get our passage to Winnipeg, Canada. About 15 days later we arrived at Uncle & Aunts' home. They received us graciously, sister stayed home with them, they put in school about 6 months I could not speak or understand English, so they took me out of school so I could learn tailoring during working hours in a tailor store. I also learned to ice skate but I froze my fingers. They were bandaged for 3 months, all my nails fell out. By this time I learned English. Uncle's business was not too busy so I went to look for outside work, there was no openings so I opened my own little tailor shop. I didn't have a lease so in a few years I was forced to leave because they wanted my location to build new apartments. Meantime my sister had gotten married and moved to Troy, New York. Since I had no store, sister insisted I go pay her a visit, so I went.
On my return home I stopped in Windsor, Canada and got a job with Postian Oriental Rug Company. After working there a few years, on one fine day, the Gedikians (Armina & Her parents) came from Detroit for a visit to the Postian family, on their departure her brother invited me to come and visit them, they will take me to Armenian affairs & dances. There and then I got acquainted with Armina and after a few years of courtship, we got engaged. We were married in Detroit. After staying in Windsor we decided to move to Detroit, we started a tailor shop, we rented a little flat, and next we were blessed by the birth of a little girl we named Doris. Four years later we were blessed with a brother for Doris that we named Raymond. We had our tailor shop about 7 years, my health told us to sell out. I went to my Uncle Takvor's in Winnipeg to recuperate, when I came back to my loved ones, I went to work for Saks Fifth Avenue, a few years later I went to work for Harry Suffrins and Hughes & Hatcher. Since my retirement I have been working part-time for my Son.
Stephen Nazarath Boujoulian
May 1, 1909 - March 27, 1996
