I was in Los Angeles from Nov. 23-27, a place I never imagined I would go! Long journeys to unknown lands have always frightened me. But this time I was invited by the ANCA-Western Region to participate in their three-day conference at the Sheraton Universal.
Gunaysu: “There must be reparations. At least, the ones who work for the recognition in Turkey have to demand, put pressure on the policy makers, for official steps to compensate for the immense loss. I know that it is irreparable, it is unforgivable, it is incurable, but still Turkey will always bear the responsibility, the obligation, to assure the grandchildren of genocide victims that it is ready to heal the wounds in any way it can.”
I thought I would, in this issue of the Armenian Weekly, share with readers my very personal experience on that journey with excerpts from a speech I gave on Sat., Dec. 26–a very important day for me–at a session titled “Confronting Truth, Delivering Justice: Turkey and the Armenian Genocide.”
My LA days, the time I spent there, what I did, saw, and heard there, and my state of mind, still seem to be covered by a mist. This was because of the deep and complicated mixture of fear, excitement, emotional upheaval, and awkwardness that had engulfed me, both before and during the visit, until the moment I found myself standing before an audience of 400. But why fear? Despite the risk of sounding a bit too personal, I will confess: fear of speaking in public, especially in English, has been my phobia since my childhood due to the long history, even a sort of affection, between me and my old friend stuttering!
So, during those three days, until that moment on the platform, the shimmering panoramic view of LA from my hotel window at night, the faces of the people I met, the words spoken, the eyes looking at me, still appear as if they are all behind a thin curtain moving with a soft breeze, causing the images to be blurred at times, coming and going as if in a dream.
Yet, very paradoxically, there are many things that are crystal clear in my mind: moments with the individuals and families I met, their warmth, their commitment to the Armenian identity, the fluent Armenian in my ears spoken by everyone around me, the feeling of fulfillment from hearing it just like when I hear it in Turkey (though very seldom in the case of the latter), their immediately responsive heart, the very familiar Armenian spirit embracing the entire atmosphere in the home of that dear family I visited, and the dignity, respect, affection, and devot