“Unclench Your Fist And We Will Talk”

By  Arpie Dadoyan, New Jersey, 21 January 2009

Friends of Hrant: Voices in Dialogue are a group of Armenians, Turks and Kurds with roots in Anatolia who have come together to share their deep love and respect for Hrant Dink and to carry on his legacy and dream. On January 17 in Ottawa, Canada, they put together an evening commemorating the second anniversary of Hrant Dink’s senseless killing and invited the public to attend the event.

By  Arpie Dadoyan, New Jersey, 21 January 2009

Friends of Hrant: Voices in Dialogue are a group of Armenians, Turks and Kurds with roots in Anatolia who have come together to share their deep love and respect for Hrant Dink and to carry on his legacy and dream. On January 17 in Ottawa, Canada, they put together an evening commemorating the second anniversary of Hrant Dink’s senseless killing and invited the public to attend the event.

For this occasion, I drove to Montréal from New Jersey taking the 87 Thruway on to Highway 15 in Canada and from there five of us Armenians drove to Ottawa on Autoroute 417, thus bypassing the ways of politics, governments, hate, ignorance, revenge and demands. The experience was liberating. Understanding open arms of non-Armenians greeted us upon arrival and welcomed us in peace and appreciation. 

Despite the fact that non-Armenians outnumbered us 5 to 1, from then on and throughout the event, the evening brought us closer to each other via the tool called compassionate intelligence. We, the Armenians were the endangered species for them. They had worked so hard and slept so little to let one more Armenian know that they understood our plight. They knew. There were tears, hugs and laughter, smiles of understanding and discoveries, language and name comparisons, geographical locations of ancestors were noted. At one point I had to come to terms with the sense that the grandparents of the people I was talking to might have been the neighbors of my grandparents.

At times we forgot why we were there only to later realize that it is Hrant Dink who brought us together. His vision was being realized as we were honoring and remembering him. He was among us and we were all him.

In Beirut, where I was born, the Kurds used to live in huts behind a whole circle of buildings in our neighborhood. They always wore their traditional costumes and before television they were our only source of entertainment and education in matters ethnic. The husbands sold vegetables on carriages in the mornings and were oh so kind to all the Armenian housewives who kept bartering for pennies. 

But I had never met a “Turk.”

 

VICTOR JARA

Lyrics by Adrian Mitchell, music by Arlo Guthrie

 

Victor Jara of Chile Lived like a shooting star He fought for the people of Chile With his songs and his guitar His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   Victor Jara was a peasant He worked from a few years old He sat upon his father's plow And watched the earth unfold His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   When the neighbors had a wedding Or one of their children died His mother sang all night for them With Victor at her side His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   He sang about the copper miners And those who worked the land He sang about the factory workers And they knew he was their man His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   He campaigned for Allende Working night and day He sang "Take hold of your brothers hand You know the future begins today" His hands were gentle, his hands were strong

When the generals seized Chile They arrested Victor then They caged him in a stadium With five-thousand frightened men His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   Victor stood in the stadium His voice was brave and strong And he sang for his fellow prisoners Till the guards cut short his song His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   They broke the bones in both his hands They beat him on the head They tore him with electric shocks And then they shot him dead His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   Now the Generals they rule Chile And the British have their thanks For they rule with Hawker Hunters And they rule with Chieftain tanks His hands were gentle, his hands were strong   Victor Jara of Chile Lived like a shooting star He fought for the people of Chile With his songs and his guitar His hands were gentle, his hands were strong