ARTSAKH VILLAGE WEDDING
Friday, 11 September 2002
Before we go to Vitalic�s (Ara�s contractor), where preparations for Vova�s (Vitalic�s son) wedding are taking place, a lot of time is spent washing Ara�s car, which will be the limo for the bride and groom. We drive down there and park the car inside. This vehicle has gotten quite a reputation. One of the little kids, barely 3, asks if it is his Mercedes and can it get out of the mud.
Laura (Vitalic�s wife) and her neighbors are working on food preparation. Kids are running around excitedly with no particular purpose. They are taking it all in, and who knows, planning for their own special day in the future.
Laura�s mother has come from the village of Jardar. She is a woman of ageless beauty, with a lined face, who has clearly seen much in her life.
We share a meal. I sit at the men�s table and join them in their toasts. The conversation is always about how hard life is, how people wouldn�t leave if the economy were better, how corrupt the government is. Always there is a toast to Ara, his brothers, father, and mother, etc.
When we leave for home, we are reminded that we should show up in the morning at 9 am, as we will go to fetch the bride.
Saturday, 12 October 2002
Who could imagine a day like today? I have read about wedding traditions in Armenian Village Life before 1915. But that I could expect to experience it in 2002 makes me appreciate this separate reality even more. With one foot in the future and the other in the past, I conclude that I prefer the latter. Here is what I mean.
In the morning, we walk down to Vitalic�s house, where the last of the wedding preparations are in full swing. Everyone is busy�preparing the backdrop for the head table (a carpet on which strips of cotton batting are shaped into the phrase Asdtso Shnorhavorutyune Dzez.). In the adjacent yard, huge kettles of boiling water, with chickens and fish cooking. Tables are being set with the best dishes, and bottles of vodka, wine, water, and soda.
Meanwhile, the Mercedes is being decorated with ribbons, balloons, flowers, and topped with the bride and groom figurines. Vova, the groom, the kavor and kavorakin, will ride in that car. Around 11, we set out for the village of Bertashen to fetch the bride. A caravan of cars sets out, preceded by the SUV that carries the videographer. With much honking of horns, it moves slowly to avoid the potholes and keep the balloons from flying off.
Bertashen is about 20 km from Martuni. The road is winding and tortuous, like the ones in our folktales, when the young man sets out in search of the perfect life. When we reach the village, everyone is out, young and old, watching the caravan pass by. They have smiles on their faces. The kids squeal with delight.
Approaching the bride�s house, we are greeted with dhol, accordion, and clarinet. We follow the ensemble into the house, where she is waiting to be dressed. Her name is Lilith�she is lovely, with little white flowers in her hair, and a look of anticipation and nostalgia on her face.
When she is dressed, the bridegroom brings her out, and with all the guests as witnesses, she says her last farewell to her father, as he places her hand into the hand of her husband-to-be. Toasts are offered and then we go to the nearby hall, where a wedding feast takes place, with lots of food, drink, music, dancing, and general merriment. This lasts until the late afternoon.
Then we all get in our cars and head to the top of the mountain in Bertashen where a monument, museum and chapel are found. The bride and groom enter the small chapel and light candles, and then go toward the monument for picture taking.
We now leave Bertashen for Martuni. We stop at the city hall, where the newlyweds sign the register and receive their certificate of marriage, and take pictures in front of Avo�s statue. Then on to Vitalic�s house to continue the festivities. Celebrate we do, with more food, drink, music, and dancing until the wee hours. Among the many toasts, one is drunk to Ara and me, his blessed mother who has come from so far away to bring help to the people of Martuni.
I am called upon to say a few words from the heart. I congratulate the newlyweds, giving them the good wishes of friends and family in Diaspora, and wishing that they may grow old on the same pillow.
How fortunate could one person be? To witness the past, the present, and look to the future in one beautiful Artsakh day.
Friday, 11 September 2002
Before we go to Vitalic�s (Ara�s contractor), where preparations for Vova�s (Vitalic�s son) wedding are taking place, a lot of time is spent washing Ara�s car, which will be the limo for the bride and groom. We drive down there and park the car inside. This vehicle has gotten quite a reputation. One of the little kids, barely 3, asks if it is his Mercedes and can it get out of the mud.
Laura (Vitalic�s wife) and her neighbors are working on food preparation. Kids are running around excitedly with no particular purpose. They are taking it all in, and who knows, planning for their own special day in the future.
Laura�s mother has come from the village of Jardar. She is a woman of ageless beauty, with a lined face, who has clearly seen much in her life.
We share a meal. I sit at the men�s table and join them in their toasts. The conversation is always about how hard life is, how people wouldn�t leave if the economy were better, how corrupt the government is. Always there is a toast to Ara, his brothers, father, and mother, etc.
When we leave for home, we are reminded that we should show up in the morning at 9 am, as we will go to fetch the bride.
Saturday, 12 October 2002
Who could imagine a day like today? I have read about wedding traditions in Armenian Village Life before 1915. But that I could expect to experience it in 2002 makes me appreciate this separate reality even more. With one foot in the future and the other in the past, I conclude that I prefer the latter. Here is what I mean.
In the morning, we walk down to Vitalic�s house, where the last of the wedding preparations are in full swing. Everyone is busy�preparing the backdrop for the head table (a carpet on which strips of cotton batting are shaped into the phrase Asdtso Shnorhavorutyune Dzez.). In the adjacent yard, huge kettles of boiling water, with chickens and fish cooking. Tables are being set with the best dishes, and bottles of vodka, wine, water, and soda.
Meanwhile, the Mercedes is being decorated with ribbons, balloons, flowers, and topped with the bride and groom figurines. Vova, the groom, the kavor and kavorakin, will ride in that car. Around 11, we set out for the village of Bertashen to fetch the bride. A caravan of cars sets out, preceded by the SUV that carries the videographer. With much honking of horns, it moves slowly to avoid the potholes and keep the balloons from flying off.
Bertashen is about 20 km from Martuni. The road is winding and tortuous, like the ones in our folktales, when the young man sets out in search of the perfect life. When we reach the village, everyone is out, young and old, watching the caravan pass by. They have smiles on their faces. The kids squeal with delight.
Approaching the bride�s house, we are greeted with dhol, accordion, and clarinet. We follow the ensemble into the house, where she is waiting to be dressed. Her name is Lilith�she is lovely, with little white flowers in her hair, and a look of anticipation and nostalgia on her face.
When she is dressed, the bridegroom brings her out, and with all the guests as witnesses, she says her last farewell to her father, as he places her hand into the hand of her husband-to-be. Toasts are offered and then we go to the nearby hall, where a wedding feast takes place, with lots of food, drink, music, dancing, and general merriment. This lasts until the late afternoon.
Then we all get in our cars and head to the top of the mountain in Bertashen where a monument, museum and chapel are found. The bride and groom enter the small chapel and light candles, and then go toward the monument for picture taking.
We now leave Bertashen for Martuni. We stop at the city hall, where the newlyweds sign the register and receive their certificate of marriage, and take pictures in front of Avo�s statue. Then on to Vitalic�s house to continue the festivities. Celebrate we do, with more food, drink, music, and dancing until the wee hours. Among the many toasts, one is drunk to Ara and me, his blessed mother who has come from so far away to bring help to the people of Martuni.
I am called upon to say a few words from the heart. I congratulate the newlyweds, giving them the good wishes of friends and family in Diaspora, and wishing that they may grow old on the same pillow.
How fortunate could one person be? To witness the past, the present, and look to the future in one beautiful Artsakh day.
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