Sirvart Zarian: Living a Multicultural Life on Four Continents

I cherish a bright memory of my single meeting with your father, architect Armen Zarian, in 1993. For me, it was just delightful to meet an Armenian-German family in Yerevan whose family language was Italian. How was it to live as Westerners in a closed Soviet society?

Evoking strong recollections of my nine years spent in Soviet Armenia can be quite a challenge. After all, finding myself in Armenia, not knowing the language (only my father Armen knew), was frightening and sometimes hateful. As a result, I went through a long integration process. The best way to balance things out for me was to switch toward a self-preservation mode. I continued to live in two distinct realities, one at home on Abovian Street surrounded by all our familiar belongings from our house in Rome, and the outside existence, going to school, trying to make friends, constantly learning how to be part of a very different milieu. As a result, it was quite normal to continue speaking Italian at home, while our parents would often speak German.

I also cherish the memories of my friendship with your mother, Maria Gawronsky Zarian or Frau Maria, as many knew her in Yerevan. For seven years I used to visit her periodically, taking German and Italian art journals to her. It was great and unusual to see her in downtown Yerevan. She rarely complained that her life in Italy had been substituted with that of Soviet Armenia, but I am sure it was quite hard for her.

To describe my mother Maria’s life in Soviet Armenia is to talk first of all about her ability to overcome such hardships that only a total dedication to her husband and family gave her the strength to overcome. It was an inhuman regime and a difficult lifestyle. To her great relief, two Armenian ladies, professors of German at the Yerevan State University, came to the rescue. To make ends meet, they started to send my mother students eager to learn German. This made our situation became less tragic. Soon my mom got a teaching position at the university and she dedicated herself to teaching her mother tongue and German literature. She was a great adviser for my father, a loving mother that endured long queues to put a decent meal on the table for her four kids. She was crucial in caring for my grandfather Kostan, especially after he was assaulted in his apartment and needed a lot of care. She welcomed many local artists and architects into our house, even when it was hard for her to understand the conversation. She was happy once the Italian architects started to come from Rome and Milan to Yerevan every summer for many years. Our house became a meeting hub for many projects, and the outcome was a superb series of documents dedicated to Armenian ancient architecture coordinated by Armen Zarian and the Academy. Out of this cooperation came out symposia dedicated to Armenian art in Italy and Yerevan, and books, just to mention a few. This unique atmosphere had a big influence on my brother Ara. As a young boy, he had the opportunity to join my father and the Italian architects on their numerous field trips to research, photograph, and measure ancient Armenian churches. He later studied architecture and for many years dedicated himself to the restoration of religious wall paintings in churches during his trips to Armenia, publishing wonderful books and giving many lectures in Italy.

When my father passed away three months shy of his eightieth birthday in 1994, my mother Maria refused all our invitations to join us in Italy, Canada or Ukraine, where our younger brother Valter lives. We had no choice but to honor her last wish.

I keep in my library your Armenian book of poems, Primordial Voices, presented to me by Frau Maria, as she signed on it in German, “in honor of our friendship.” That’s why now it is unusual for me to have this interview with you in English, with an author who has written poems in pure literary Armenian about Yerablour, Sevan, Karintak village, etcetera.

My literary Armenian came at a price. As I already told you, I learned Armenian in Yerevan in the 1960s. There were no special classes at school to integrate kids that didn’t speak Armenian! I was picking up new words from my environment, trying to figure out their meaning. The Armenian at that time in Yerevan was quite colorful, mostly a mixture of the local slang and many Turkish and Russian words. I simply couldn’t tell the difference between this mixture and pure Armenian words. For me, it was all Armenian. When I got engaged to my future husband, he started to purge my Armenian until I reached a decent level. When I left Armenia, I had to learn fast Western Armenian, the language of my grandmother and father. I started to read Teotik’s wonderful Almanac, Eghia Demirjibashian, and Shahan Shahnour: I had good teachers.

In my opinion, your poetry reminds me very much of Kostan Zarian style. Indeed, I have found only in poems of your grandfather and yours some words like “tsarasi”(birch tree), while the Armenian usual word for that tree is “kechi”.

I believe every writer and artist have their unique style. The words I choose are selected with care according to the poem’s content and tone. It is important that they voice my feelings and emotions. Yes, I use figurative language, metaphors, and symbolism. It is my style that best refers to the content. In my poems I use lots of images from nature, which express my internal rhythm best. When Susan Sontag was asked to distill her most essential advice on the craft, she answered: “Several things. Love words, agonize over sentences. And pay attention to the world.”

“Primordial Voices” is dedicated to my parents and fortunately, father was able to see it before he passed away.

You lived in diverse countries, both geographically and culturally. What did your birthplace Morocco give you? I know that Spanish was your first language. What did the other countries where you have lived give to you?

During the 1950s, with the economic miracle in full swing, Armen, at the time a young architect, was working with the studio of architect Messina in Rome. He participated in an international competition to build a housing neighborhood in Tangier and he succeeded in getting the contract and building agreement. This is the reason I was born in Tangier. At that time, it was an international city and we were living in the Spanish section. I was very little when we left Tangier with the ill-fated Andrea Doria (this ocean liner known for its sinking in 1956) for Italy.

Each country that I lived and worked in since my early twenties has given me a unique experience, knowledge, and unforgettable memories. Ethiopia has a special place in my heart, for my first child Her was born in Addis Ababa. We were very well received by the thriving Armenian community; they were simply wonderful. Unfortunately, after a year of our stay, a coup d’état happened against the ruling Emperor. The wealthy and proud Armenian community was hard hit, and many left. We lost most of our students at the Kevorkoff Armenian School; it was simply time to pack and go. In Egypt, we had the unique opportunity to travel and visit most of the ancient pyramids, temples and monuments. I cherish one of our travel adventures with a dear friend, artist Shant Avedissian. His many conversations about French Egyptologist and mystic Schwaller de Lubicz’s spiritual and cosmological insights into ancient Egypt and his place in the evolution of human consciousness gave me a new, broader understanding. Another exciting debut was the presentation of the “Gayane” ballet in Cairo, Egypt, with Sonia Sarkees (Chamkertenian) as prima ballerina, Vilen Galstyan’s choreography and Robert Elibekyan’s stage design. What they were able to achieve was simply amazing. William Saroyan’s visit to the Kalousdian Armenian school in Cairo and the message he left for the students on the blackboard were unforgettable. We travelled from Egypt to Lebanon, to Nigeria, to the northern city of Kaduna, the birthplace of my second son Dyrr. All these countries, their different cultures, the many interesting encounters, and the challenges are part of the adventure that was life.

The Armenian community of Sudan, now very small, is less known. What memories you can share about it?

Sudan was our last post before emigration to Québec, Canada. In the early eighties, we were there for nearly two years. At that time, the Armenian community was maybe around 50 souls. The St. Grigor Church, the National School, and our house were all in a compound with tall walls all around it and a heavy metal gate. Soon the Shariah law came into effect and many Armenians left. Life became very difficult, and food and fuel were scarce. We needed somewhere more permanent and this time we decided to migrate to a safe country, to give our boys a stable future. When we left in 1985; only the priest, his family and a few children were left. There was no more need for a school principal and teachers.

Do you continue writing poems? In what language?

I was born into a household with a strong culture of reading and listening to classical music. I was exposed to visual arts and lots of architecture and interior design. During my teen years in Yerevan, there was a great appreciation for books. I found myself often on the queue in front of the Abovyan Street bookstore, eager to get my hands on a new publication. Today, the web got the best of it, it’s a great advantage to have so much information, but reading remains for me precious. Coming to your question, I divide my time between reading, drawing, and writing, sometimes in Armenian, but mostly in Italian.

I once met your late husband, the literary critic, writer and teacher Manuel Keusseyan. I assume the Zarian family literary genes have been passed to your son Dyrr. I read way back his extraordinary poems on Facebook.

Dyrr is a born artist. While a young boy, he was into ceramics, drawing, writing, and later intaglio printing techniques. Writing is an integral part of his life. He writes in English and French, but mostly in English. He is fond of Eastern philosophy and poetry. He posts online his writings on the “All Poetry” site. His poems can be found in the “Late Night Poets” anthology. We are hoping to publish soon his poems.

Good luck with Dyrr’s book of poetry, Sirvart! And I wish Anais and you finish the translation of your grandmother’s memoirs in near future and publish it as a brilliant gift to all fans of Kostan Zarian’s literature!