CHILDHOOD MEMORIES

You cannot escape the responsibility of tomorrow by evading it today.

Abraham Lincoln

You can’t find a person without childhood memories and no matter how happy or sad, they stay with us throughout our lives.

This is a story from my childhood.

1994, dark and cold years, there was neither electricity nor a hope that there would be. It was terribly boring in winter especially for me, as I couldn’t engage in anything because of my disability. However, summer was totally different: I would spend some time in the yard in my wheelchair, and sometimes at the weekends when my nephews visited me, they would take me farther to the park or just for a walk in the street. On the one hand, it was good at that time, especially for children as they weren’t addicted to computers and iPhones. During the holidays we would leave for the countryside to visit our maternal grandparents who lived in Mrgavan village of Artashat region from where you could admire the wonderful view of Mount Ararat.

There was a mulberry tree near their house. On summer days, especially in the morning, you could see pink starlings or “mulberry doves” which are called “balak” in Artashat dialect. I don’t know why they are called like that so we’ll come to it later.

The majority of the villagers are immigrants from Khoy County of Iran – hardworking farmers, who are mainly specialized in viticulture. During those years the village had irrigation issues, so the villagers had to take turns at night to irrigate their fields. That year our visit to the village coincided with the most active season of “balaks”. Together with my brother we used to cling to the arms of our uncle and ask him to hunt “balaks” for us and he would comply so as not to offend us. He would take his gun and kill a few birds for us. Then we would have them roasted. Their meat is really delicious but I think we rather enjoyed shooting from the gun.

My brother was malnourished and my mother was worried about him. One of our relatives worked in Artashat hospital and advised her to take my brother to hospital and have some blood tests for hemoglobin. Mother agreed and they made an appointment to take him. It was a bright morning in Ararat when they left and I stayed with my uncle. We had intended to hunt “balaks” once again but I don’t know why they were late for their usual breakfast that day. In the yard there was an old bed and my uncle said: “David jan, come and lie here, and I will repair my bicycle wheels.”

Afterwards he put me comfortably on the bed so that I could see him repair the bicycle. While we were busy with the bike, my grandpa came home to have a little rest after working in the fields all night. He was in a hurry as it could be his turn to irrigate the land and he didn’t want to lose his chance as he would have to wait for his turn much longer. There was a table not far from the bed where I was lying and while grandpa was washing his hands, grandma put his breakfast on the table. It included bread, 2 soft-boiled eggs and vegetables. My grandpa sat at the table (don’t forget that he was in a hurry). Grandma had forgotten to put tomatoes on the table and grandpa asked bewildered: “Amalia, where is the tomato?”

“Just a minute,” she said.

Grandma went to fetch some tomatoes. After about 7 or 8 minutes my grandma hadn’t returned yet. Grandma got up, went somewhere and took 2 bright red tomatoes, washed them, put them on the plate and continued with his breakfast. After some time grandma came back with three tomatoes in hand, washed them and put them with the tomatoes that grandpa had brought. She had hardly gone a few meters when I heard a loud clasping sound. I glanced at grandma and saw a tomato crushed on her forehead (I had missed the first blow). It was followed by the second one, the third, then the boiled eggs, making a tomato omelet on my grandma’s head.

One of the tomatoes hit my uncle, and grandpa said angrily: “It took you two hours!” Grandpa turned the table with the dishes. As grandma was very late and he had missed his turn, grandpa was yelling: “I’m telling you I’m late and you are wandering for two hours.”

After everything calmed down, grandpa didn’t return to the field that day, instead he sat in a corner and started to mend his shoe scowling all the time. Grandma washed her hair, brushed it and sitting on a small chair like the American gangsters from the 60s, she started a monologue in an undecipherable dialect. My uncle and I had almost passed out with laughter. My mother and brother returned with plenty of chocolate bars. It turned out that in fact my mother’s hemoglobin was low rather than my brother’s. Being unaware of the situation my brother offered us chocolate and he went to grandpa first. He was still sulking and said: “Give it to your grandma.”

My brother took it to grandma and she started a dramatic performance and said: “Darling, I’ve already had enough.”

My mother was puzzled and asked my uncle what had happened. We barely managed to tell the incident as we were still laughing hard. Since that day I have learnt my lesson in life. One should be punctual and responsible in every situation otherwise will get tomatoes on their head.

To Norair and Amalia.