Nouneh Dilanyan Նունե Դիլանյանը

So, it started with my children being sick, which was a very important fact, because the first three or four days I had to be attached to home. Davit had gone to Leningrad to do the pre-defense of his doctoral dissertation. But later, when he called me from there, he learned what was going on here, the defense of the doctorate did not take place, and it did not take place up until today. At the beginning, a small group was gathering near Opera, I just asked here and there what was happening, even though it was visible from my window. They said that there were the ecologists. Oh, I forgot the name, yes, the greens, no, no, no, no, it wasn’t Santrosyan, it was Igor Muradyan. It was Muradyan Igor with some group, these were the first several days. And Davit called every day and said, “What’s going on there? There is some news.” I said, “well, some group is gathered, it’s the greens, they are against this and that, they’re against Nairit, they’re against this, they’re against that, and suddenly, something very strange happened. For now, I’m only telling you what I have observed from the side, because I couldn’t leave the house. Their numbers increased, increased, and then I started to see that people were already pouring from the street, they were going, they were pouring, again literally in one week the entire Opera [square] was full, the entire Opera [square]. And the thing changed, the agenda completely changed, and other things had started. And we, perhaps you know Sveta, from the English [department]... Sveta from Karabakh. At that time, because Karabakh was already heard in the Opera, Sveta moved to my house, and was sleeping at my place, by the way, that was the time when that Lukyanov came from Moscow. He arrived here, spoke some nonsense, and this Sveta said, “Let’s write an open letter to Lukyanov, I can’t write in Russian something like that.” I said, “dear Sveta, it is a pointless thing, we should not spend the night in vain, that children have fever and you ask me why I am not going to the rally? Listen, what should I do with my kids to go to the rally.” In short, then when the number [of people] reached half a million, it was full, you can’t imagine, it became clear that it is something. Then the sit-in began, and from that phase on we were already very actively involved, because the youth that initiated the sit-in were Davit’s fourth-year students, orientalists, Tigran, Armen Kharazyan, etc. There were four active students. And there they started that sit-in, my children went and sat next to them, they would not go far from them, and Davit took their exams and tests there, he was like, “what should I do, I have to do it there, I have no other choice.” They were staying there all night, and as you know our house is very close [from the Opera House], all the people came [to us], well, it was cold, they came to our place, we had tea, then we went back, then I took tea to them, then the next group would come, all the time like that. Until the moment, when they brought the army into the city, and the army was already standing along the entire Cascade, on the sidewalk in front of it, along the Cascade. Right under our window, under the kitchen window, young soldiers were lined up like this. Mikael, who was six years old at the time, took his long thing, a toy gun, out of the small kitchen window along with his head, and shouted: “fascists”, and started shooting from his rifle. They came up to our place, the idiots. Didn’t they see that it was a child? They came and said “what is there in your place? We have to search.” We will do this, we will do that, in short... And then, as they say, it off we go. It was such a pace there, and kind of, you know, like this, like this [she is waving her hands up and down], all the time, all the time. First, there was some kind of hope, then it was absolute despair, until the arrest of the “Karabakh” Committee. Then they were arrested, then the earthquake happened, then everybody fell into frustration, like after the 2020 war, the same, we have already been through the same thing once, it’s terrible... so, but back then we had faith, yes, we had faith.

First, people became a little braver. A bit more, I wouldn’t say much, because there was still a that fear. And then the famous Gorbachov congresses began. No one was working. We used to watch congresses all day, especially at that stage, when Staravoitova and others, when “ours” were there with a good team, and their voices were heard there, that was our whole occupation at that time... Let me deviate one more time, tell something funny. So in our house at that time, there was something under the TV, a big shelf where Michael’s [her son] toys were. And he was sitting on the carpet under the TV and playing with the toys on the shelf, raising his head from time to time, looking at it. How old was he? It was [19]8 something, which year was that? Eighty-nine, right? He was six or seven years old, he looked like this, he lowered his head, he looked and said, “I don’t get it, is it Gorbachov or isn’t it like Garbachov?” We were listening to it all day. All day we were listening to those congresses, what Sakhorov said, what Staravoitova said, how they didn’t let poor this [to speak]. I remember that they cut off Sakhorov’s voice, they didn’t let him speak, what an awful stress it was for all of us. We had feelings, we discussed everything, and at that time there were quite a lot of people who started to realize how important this was. You know, I wouldn't say that everyone was aware from the very first day. Some kind of that thing, they say, the collective unconscious was effecting, that they were going like this, they were going, they were raising their hands. I don’t think that all those standing at those rallies had the same goal, the same feelings, the same belief, the same thing. But during those rallies, when you already felt your identity, who you were, who represented you, what you wanted in the end, at that time that conscious element in people began to mature and develop. Although at that time and even now there was also a rather large group, which by the way was the first wave to leave the country, who said, “Hey, are you crazy, what will we do without the Soviet Union? We will be destroyed, the Turks will come, they will do, this and that to us.” They were telling it from the beginning. And they were ... the polytechnic, the so-called technical intelligentsia left the country first, Russian-educated, they were the first wave to leave because they couldn’t imagine... but the irony is that they did not leave for Russia, but for America. Leaving for Russia started later. No, it was a very interesting period.

We used to buy things from those parcels that came from abroad, in the hotels. What did we buy from parcels? Jeans, music records, vinyl records, and big records, we had all the Beatles albums and we knew all the bands. Moreover, let’s say because Davit’s two brothers were older than him, and those two brothers, for example, the oldest brother, Samvel, was considered, at that time they were called stilyaga, in those tight pants, rock'n'roll, how they danced rock'n'roll, you’d be blown away… All that youth, so to say, who were in those cafes, it was called Skvazniachok, at Cinema Nairi, you know, now it’s gone, there, or in front of Cinema Moscow, where Levon Nersisyan, that bohemian people used to gather, they would sit there, argue… they didn't go there to drink, but they had serious conversations, and all those conversations mostly took place in those places, all those things, the preparations. Now, it may seem like a preparation, but those moods were spreading, weren’t they? People were thinking, “Why do we have to live like that?”, “Why do we have to live in this place?” And that music was not just a form. It was a way of thinking, it was also a protest, because… Oh! How much were they shouting at us. Us wearing mini skirts was a protest, like why shouldn’t we do what they were doing in the world? How were they shouting at us, what kinds of words they were saying… Anything that came to their mind. Our generation introduced all of that, and at that time it was a big risk, they could do anything to us at that time. I remember one of the rectors of the university, we had female students from Germany then, he kicked them out because they were wearing pants. How could those poor kids [students] know that in Armenia you could not go to university in pants? That was the gup. And you were trying to somehow bring the mountain closer to the valley, to fill the gap.

I know a good story. So, back then there was something like this, they were called “spidola”, with such rustling, all those things, like [radio] Liberty, they always did something, they rustled, so that you couldn’t hear. And my friend told me that once he and his family were vacationing on some beach, and he said that there was a place in the beach where it wouldn’t rustle so much, and he said that they put that small spidola on their ears to listen to the Radio Liberty, and there were Russians lying on the beach next to them (it was in some Russian beach), then he said someone, one of those Russians looked at them with such a furious look and said in Russian, “What’s that? Are you listening to the enemy radio? So you also are...”. There were such things. In general, however, Armenia was a bit different. Although our so-called dissidence was more in the national cement, there were still those elements, they couldn’t be absent… And plus, perhaps the presence of the Diaspora was also very important, because there were things, for example, how was the information coming from the outside? In different ways, in addition to the information itself. Movies, music, clothes, let’s say myths, those are different things, aren’t they? That cultural cycle that goes around? And thanks to that Diaspora, this western novelty entered Armenia much earlier than other Soviet countries. We used to watch such movies, I remember, in 1976, yes, in 1977, we were in Moscow, and at that time they started showing a program on TV in Yerevan, it was called 22/30, there was a film critic Armen Hovhannisyan, and they were showing films that no other Soviet republic... For example, “Cabaret”, the first movie, I remember it very well, it was the first movie that was shown on that program, and before the movie he told the story of its creation, etc., etc. Can you imagine? 1977, “Cabaret” in the Soviet Union, which is essentially about gays, right? Very, very interesting things happened. Let's say, the same Beatles came here earlier, Elvis Presley came here earlier, all these things reached us very early, and it should have made a difference.

I remember watching the films in ‘98, when different candidates appeared… no, it was not the nineties, what was it? Sorry, it was 2008, in 2008, the various presidential candidates were showing things, clips, to remind us about the terrible dark and cold years we lived in, to show that those were not years of victory, but the years of darkness and cold. And they didn’t even understand that when they showed people standing in kilometer-long queues, snow, terrible cold, and when those people saw that the camera was on them, they did this [points out two fingers showing the victory sign], instead of crying and saying, ‘oh, how bad our situation is’, the effect of those clips was the opposite of what their intention was. Do you understand? People endured, and waited, and believed. That was very, very important. There was a lot of abnormal dedication at that time, at least for me, that is, at least in the piece where I was and that was in front of my eyes. Constantly working, working, working, day and night, day and night, there was no rest, there was no sleep, there was no night, there was no day. Always doing something, doing, doing, so you can at least get something done, at least carry out something... People were ready to work in three, four, five places, just to make something happen, and that was an abnormal, now they call it romanticism, no, it was just devotion, because... well, I’m talking about those I know, I cannot talk on behalf of everyone, but it was that faith and that thing that finally came true, that you wouldn’t have thought that it could ever happen.

Yes, about the daily routine, do you remember, when they were saying “[Karabakh is ours, but is at Turks’ hands] papa went to demonstration to prove it” now it was our [situation]. We used to go to work, it’s true, I, for example, don’t you forget that in addition to everything, we also worked, and we worked very hard... So, that year I had Palestinian students. They attended our demonstrations a couple of times, and then they told me that we were fighting the wrong way. We asked them why. And they said, ‘You stood up and raised your fists, who would listen to you? Do you know what is needed? Stones! You should take stones.’ And I said to them that this was not Gaza for them, if we had taken stones, whom should we throw those stones at? It was very funny. But later they were afraid to come [to demonstrations]. Thus, the number of foreigners gradually decreased, and that department already... Well, we went to Damascus later, I didn't know what happened, but I was getting news that little by little something... but they [the foreign students] were actively following what was happening. They were very interested, it was happening after all, how could they not be interested?

When these Estonians saw that half a million people came out to the square in one week, and they were not able to organize protests in Estonia, they came here. So, these guys [the students of Davit Hovhannisyan, Noune Dilanyan’s husband] had acquaintances there, they came here to talk to the guys and to see what they could do [in their country]. Then these guys went to Tallinn, those two, Tigran Hayrapetyan and Armen Kharazyan, and the other two, Artak and Aghas. The students, Davit’s fourth-year students. They guys went to Tallinn to train them how to fight against the Soviets. After that, the ties became so strong, that when they returned, they brought two people with them, and we were invited to Estonia the next summer. Our family was invited. We went there with both our children. We went there and realized that… They were very slow, do you understand, until they moved from their place, until... That square of their town hall is a small thing, you can fill it like this [points with the thumb and middle finger of the hand] it would be full. They were collecting signatures for quitting the Soviet Union. People were walking around; two people would sign, the other three wouldn’t. In the end, we also advocated a bit…

You know, starting from everyday issues, let’s say the attitude towards the shops not returning small change, or the attitude towards rudeness, vulgarity, inattentiveness, starting with those everyday things, and ending with the things like when to speak and when to stay silent. But, you know, it could be a very eloquent silence if it was some kind of political conversation. One thing must be understood, that in those years, although we were very well aware of what kind of country the Soviet Union was, even those people who were very well aware of it, did not think that it would happen during their lifetime. We were all convinced that it would happen one day, that it would collapse, it could not last long, but it seemed to us that they would still prolong, prolong, and prolong… even for us it was a bit unexpected. So, as soon as the movement started, everything was happening at such a lightning speed that there was no time for reflection. It was just driving you like this, it was taking you, the thing, the flow of events was taking you. It was a very interesting period.

You know, we had learned to understand so many things between the lines during the Soviet period. We read the same newspapers backword, in the opposite way, to analyze, to decode. And there were many signs suggesting you not to have anything to do with this person on this issue. In that sense, we were probably a bit marginal, but marginal in a different way. We were... I don't know how to say it without being too rude... we were snobbish marginals, that is, our marginality was not an oppressed one, but the opposite, we felt that we had, or possessed that knowledge, or that we had that thinking, those approaches that others did not have. But we also realized that it was a small group, a very narrow one, which was trying to keep to itself.

Edmon Avetyan taught General Linguistics, Introduction to Linguistics, and he taught Latin. He taught us both Latin and Introduction to Linguistics in the first year, and General Linguistics in the fourth year. He was a brilliant specialist, a person with great knowledge, unprecedented knowledge. And Rafik Papayan was teaching Poetics later on. So, after various “notes” to certain institutions, they searched their houses for certain things, they found banned literature and arrested them. I don’t even remember for how long. I don’t think that they were kept very long. Anyway, we were still studying, and when we graduated, they were released. At the time, well, it was a thing, they were “labeled” as they say, people distanced from them. And a group of former students went to visit them. We were probably no more than six or seven people, from a cohort of one hundred people. In other words, it was a form of protest, very restrained, of course. I wouldn’t say that it was a heroism, but at least, if they would find out, we also might be included in the blacklist. Although I am sure that we were definitely on some of those lists. It couldn’t have passed just like that. Not in connection with them, I say in general. Let’s say, even if we were arguing in the corridors or in the auditoriums, among so many people there would be two or three people who were specifically appointed to convey to different places that this person is so-and-so, he... this one thinks this way, that one thinks that way ... But maybe we were young, especially... Actually, we didn’t even pay attention, we just lived as we thought was right.

Regarding the forbidden, well, when we ourselves grew up, the so-called samizdat literature was passing from hand to hand. There were people who we knew had it at home, they didn’t give it to everyone. For example, when we were going to Meri Kochar [then the dean of the Department of Oriental Studies at Yerevan State University], she used to give it to us, we would wrap it like this, we would secretly bring it home, that was already at the university, we had to read and return it very quickly. I remember Davit and I were in Moscow, and I don’t remember exactly, was it Solzhenitsyn? I think it was Solzhenitsyn, who else could it be, they gave it to us for one evening, and we were lying like this, holding the book like this, flipping through the pages so that we would manage to give it back the next morning. Then at the university we had professors, who, by the way, were arrested later, Edmon Avetyan and Rafik Papayan, they were accused, it was already the seventies, of such anti-Soviet activities, and we were also with them, we were taking such banned books from them as well. But not everyone admitted that they had it, and... although we approximatly guessed who could have [banned literature], and if we had relations with them, if we were close to them, we naturally asked for [the books]. That was also a very interesting period. Later, when the ban was lifted, I thought that back then they were running after those books, they wanted to read them, and now why did that interest disappear. Is it because it is not a forbidden fruit anymore? I don't know. But then it faded.

First, if I return to the life of my parents, although there were no philologists around my father, my father’s friends would gather at our house about once a week to discuss something that had recently been published. And I am saying It again, I was young, I was not sitting in that room, sometimes I tried to listen from the side. I remember very well when the “Unsilenceable Belfry” was published, maybe 15-20 people gathered at our place and discussed, not only the work, but also the illustrations, and probably, I say it again, I was young, I don’t remember well, but probably the conversation turned a little “anti”, a little nationalist, “anti”, because when another person came, he wasn’t a friend, but our neighbor, who communicated a lot with my parents, the topic was changed. And then I heard that they didn’t trust him, that there was a suspicion that he might be working somewhere, in a certain place, delivering certain information, so it was better not to talk about those issues in his presence.

My father has always held management positions and has always struggled with his direct management. When he died of his last heart attack and was dissected, it turned out that the last one was actually a very serious stroke, but before that he had nine micro-infarcts. Everyone thought that it was an ordinary heart problem, but he was constantly in the struggle, constantly under pressure. And I remember when he was once again called to talk to yet another boss, as they say “на ковер” [literally ‘on the rug’, a Russian expression for ‘disciplining’ the subordinates], he had a talisman that was given to him by Catholicos Vazgen. It was a Swiss watch. And I was young, but he would always put that watch on the table next to my bed before going out. He said, “if I somehow don’t return, this is yours, I'm leaving this for you.” I keep that talisman until now.