Անժելիկա Զաքարյան

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15 core.base.month.11, 2020 06:09

Day 1 of Peace, Nagorno Karabakh

The war is officially over but it goes on for me. Decisions, points, maps -- my mind cannot grasp all these. I don’t realize what is happening. I am in that phase... What do they call it? The phase of denial. I busy myself with some trivial work, do anything only to escape from thoughts. I could handle it until I saw the newly revised map of Artsakh. We lived 44 days in ignorance of who is where, who controls what. But today we faced our reality. Who am I? The citizen of which country? Where will I live? I no longer have the answers to these questions. I ponder that there is a corridor between Armenian and Artsakh with a view to Karvachar. Men in suits decided that they’ll give it away on November 15.

6 core.base.month.11, 2020 04:46

Day 37, Diary of War, Nagorno Karabakh

Met a very nice woman today. Her husband and eldest son are in the war, and she and her two children are in the shelter. “Sometimes it seems to me that I can’t bear it anymore, but I don’t know where the strength comes. I lost my father after the first war, and now my husband and son are there,” she says. “Don't worry, nothing will happen to them. Have you spoken to your son?” “Yes, he called…” “What did he say? And husband?” “Everything is bad... I am so afraid of the consequences of this war... Bad premonition…” I could not understand, if she talked to them, then what is the problem? They are alive!

5 core.base.month.11, 2020 04:34

Day 36, Diary of War, Nagorno-Karabakh

"Cubes of sugar" Shushi was bombed again. The war continues, more and more refugees and many more wounded. Not to mention the eternal loss... Today I want to tell a story from the first Artsakh war. I will not name the locations, it’s not of importance. War. A group of young and not so young men are fighting to get rid of the enemy and establish independence in their land. Food? Sleep? It was all just a dream... The battle was not for life, but for death. Losing meant the end of everything and everyone. The moment came when one group captured an important city. This city was key in terms of winning the war. The peaceful inhabitants of this city who sympathized with the enemy had already left via a corridor. But there were still those who did not have time to escape. The operation was successful. The city belongs to them. One of the most difficult obstacles to independence has been overcome. How long have they been waiting for this? How important it was, how many lives they saved by this.

4 core.base.month.11, 2020 00:52

Day 35, Diary of War, Nagorno-Karabakh

In the morning the weather in Stepanakert was excellent. Autumn, a light breeze, the sun warmed my soul. I decided to leave the shelter for a bit, and it seemed that there was no war at all. But our neighbors, of course, will not let you enjoy this break. Several explosions, and we are back in the hole. In school, I got a B in physical education, to be honest. If my teacher knew that I could run like that, she might change my grade. The situation and I are both becoming more and more tense. The war continues, nothing changes, we are devastated. The sound of bombs became our crying baby at night, and in the morning - an alarm clock. The last days have been very difficult.

1 core.base.month.11, 2020 02:53

Day 33, Diary of War, Nagorno Karabakh

Today, I was in the maternity hospital, which was bombed yesterday. To be honest, it was indescribably scary. If it were not for Levon (he is my cameraman and owner of the fish that I take care of), then I would never have left the shelter. They did not let us sleep all night, and also morning, afternoon, evening. We are literally under constant bombing. When we approached the hospital, my hands were shaking. But I tried to hide it because Levon would have regretted agreeing to go there with me. We approached the destroyed hospital: I take photos, Levon takes videos. All this happens under the sound of bombs. With every sound, as they say, “I step into hell and return”. I had not felt so much fear as I did today, in my own hometown, in Stepanakert. At one point, I stood outside, with broken window glass under my feet.

31 core.base.month.10, 2020 10:37

Day 32, Diary of War, Nagorno-Karabakh

We had no electricity for most of the day today. I couldn't even send my "diary". Scrambled eggs were cooking on a stove when the lights turned off. Remained undercooked. There was nothing to do, we ate it just like that. Cheese, canned eggplant, and lavash saved us. Stepanakert was bombed the entire day, and we sat in the dark and wondered where the shell hit this time. After a while, many acquaintances called, because they heard that another Smerch exploded near my shelter. Perhaps it did. Another call: “Lika, did you talk to your mother? The maternity hospital was blown up." My mom works at the hospital. No, I didn't talk to her... There are a million thoughts in my head - how? How can someone blow up a hospital, a maternity hospital? I do not want to believe that someone is capable of such a thing. Then I remembered the conversation with my mother. “Mom, can you go to Yerevan, too? At least for a while.”

29 core.base.month.10, 2020 05:24

Diary of One Month of Karabakh War

One month. For 744 hours we have been living and going through war. We have lost 1006 of our best men. We've lost almost a whole generation of men born between 2000 and 2002. Thirty nine civilians who were living their lives have died, including children, the elderly, and people with disabilities. Ninety thousand people (60% of Artsakh's population) were forced to leave their homes and find refuge. More than 20,000 children are deprived of their right to education. Mothers lost their sons, who they carried for nine months, and then protected them though all their lives. Children are left orphans. So many people learned what it feels like to have no home and shelter. People who never asked for anything, who worked day and night to make ends meet, now know the meaning of “getting help.” Karabakh children are getting looks of pity. I hate those looks. All my life I hated them. “Oh God, you are from Karabakh? Oh, well, that's okay, that's okay..."

28 core.base.month.10, 2020 03:49

Day 30, Diary of War, Nagorno Karabakh

The third humanitarian ceasefire was as useless as the previous two. The only difference is that this time no one was surprised. Since there is no truce and the war continues, I asked my dad to bring me backgammon. Now, in my bomb shelter, you can hear not only the sounds of bombs, but also the sounds of the backgammon pieces, which sometimes drown out everything else. I remember spending a whole winter in Roots cafe playing this game, just like grandparents. People in Artsakh love backgammon. When the weather is good, you can see elderly war veterans playing board games in the yard. I even have photos of them, I wanted to make a series about this. Usually, two sit in front of each other - the main characters, and three or four men stand side by side and watch the game. Everyone comments, “Oh, why did you make this move? Eh! You will lose!"

26 core.base.month.10, 2020 06:50

Day 29, Diary of War, Nagorno-Karabakh

The war does not end. The death toll keeps growing, mothers keep living without news from their sons, nurses and doctors don't sleep day and night.... The only thing I can do amid this chaos is to feed the fish. Unfortunately, I only have enough strength and energy to keep them from starving. The worst thing we go through right now is normalization. We have been getting used to the war. This is utterly unfair. I remember when the elders talked about the first Artsakh (Karabakh) war, they used to say, “You know? We got used to living in war. It's as if our heart had turned into stone. We heard new names of the fallen each day, it was sad, but it seemed that there were no tears left. We had wept them all out." I'm afraid that soon we'll turn into the same stones. Or maybe partially, we have already become.