Antranik Zekian in Armenia, not for from Mastara village, with the jezve that has travelled all the time with him during his around world journey.

Antranik Zekian: ‘We Are the Masters of Our Own Destiny’

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VENICE — The first I met Antranik Zekian, an avid traveler and Armenian Diasporan activist, was in 2018 as a student of Venice Armenian Summer School, where he returns regularly with his partner, French-Australian Florence Micol and later also with their baby, Azad. Antranik or Anto, as his friends call him, was born in 1983 in France to an Armenian father and a French mother. He is an engineer by profession. He currently lives and works in Zurich, Switzerland and runs his own travel blog (https://www.lespassengers.com).

Our conversation concerns his travels and on maintaining Armenian identity in today’s world.

Dear Antranik, I always admire people with unusual biographies, especially when they are my compatriots. I was thrilled to learn about your around word travel and to see your photos in Antarctica. Could you please tell us about that trip?

After completing my engineering studies, I worked in the United States and then in the United Kingdom. I’ve always had a taste for adventure. After spending several years in the field of banking IT, I felt the need to explore the world with my own eyes. Some years earlier, I had done some bicycle touring and really enjoyed traveling on two wheels. So, it was quite natural for me to decide to embark on a world tour by motorcycle. Motorcycles, like bicycles, allow you to be in touch with the elements. When you travel on two wheels, you experience your journey with all your senses: you taste the dust of the trails, feel the rain droplets trickle down your neck, and shiver when it’s cold. You also connect more easily with locals, who wonder what you’re doing there.

I grew up in France, so I decided to start my journey at the Eiffel Tower. The trip was supposed to last a year, but it ended up spanning two and a half years, allowing me to cross 41 countries and cover over 91,000 kilometers overland. Traveling by road lets you witness the world change gradually. You focus more on what connects people rather than on what sets them apart. As you mentioned, I was fortunate to participate in an Antarctic expedition. Arriving in Ushuaia, at the southern tip of Patagonia, I thought I had reached the end of the world. Thanks to a few encounters, I was able to board a ship and spend two weeks on the white continent. It’s a unique experience: crossing Cape Horn with albatrosses trailing the ship’s wake, spotting the first distant icebergs, and then seeing penguins watching us on the horizon while humpback whales breach near our boat.

Observing nature in its wild state is a rare privilege. This passage through Antarctica also confronted me with a truth we often forget: we are tiny compared to nature’s elements. This becomes even more evident when you’re on a boat surrounded by icebergs, with the closest human presence 1,400 kilometers away.

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I had packed a few favorite t-shirts to comfort me during the adventure, including one with my name, Anto. Armenia seems to follow me everywhere!

Not many people of your generation, even those with partial Armenian heritage, are as engaged in Armenian affairs and as committed to preserving their Armenian heritage within their families. It’s very moving to hear you speak exclusively Armenian with your son! Why is it so important for you to preserve the Armenian identity?

I’m not a fan of the term “half-Armenian.” I don’t believe in the importance of blood. In this regard, I’m very proud of both my French and Armenian roots. I’m not կէս – կէս (half/half), but լման – լման (fully both). To paraphrase Charles Aznavour, I feel luckier than others because I’m 200 percent.

More seriously, as Armenians, we should be proud of our heritage, but above all, we must work to keep it alive. By mutual agreement with his mother, we decided that I would speak to our son in Armenian. We want him to absorb this language and develop an intimate connection with it.

Antranik Zekian

I’m convinced that language is essential to preserving our identity. Learning it takes effort, but it remains the most effective tool to stay Armenian. After all, Mesrop Mashtots created the Armenian alphabet precisely to protect our people’s uniqueness during uncertain times.

My dad and my mom also played an important role. While never proselytizing and allowing me to make my own choices, they exposed me to the Armenian community. I was part of the Armenian Scouts in Lyon (France) from my 6th birthday; it gave me the chance to participate in the first summer camp in Tsaghkadzor in 1995. They also enrolled me in the Markarian-Papazian weekly school. This helped me appreciate early on the advantage of having a dual culture.

My dad, being a graduate from the Mekhitarian College in Paris, has excellent knowledge of Armenian culture. This also pushed me speak at home in this “secret language” that my mother did not understand.

Today, one of my greatest pleasures is hearing my father speak to my son in Armenian. The loop is closed, and the story continues.

“Unfortunately,” my son and I do not have this secret language. My partner, who isn’t Armenian herself, made the effort to learn how to read, write, and speak. She has been studying for six years in Venice, taking intensive language courses offered by the Padus-Araxes association. She knows much more about Armenian culture than many of my Armenian friends. Our culture is rich and appeals to many non-Armenians. We should welcome them with open arms and not close ourselves off. We should also ask ourselves what it means to be Armenian today.

Armenians need allies, and like many other nations, we must consider how we can “create new Armenians.”

My Armenian identity has given me so much in life, from my closest friends to my most incredible experiences. Even my world tour by motorcycle was born from friendships made at the AGBU France summer camp. Being an Armenian living in Europe also allows me to understand the world with multiple perspectives and better grasp its complexity. This benefits me in both my personal and professional life.

I want my son to have this open-mindedness and the same opportunities I had.

Every Armenian family’s history deserves to be told – what’s yours?

My grandmother is from Merzifon. She fled the massacres and was taken in by several missions during those troubled times. She retained mastery of many languages, including English. She eventually ended up in Constantinople with her mother and brother, where they managed to board a ship bound for France, the country that welcomed them and where they rebuilt their lives.

My grandfather was originally from Yozgat. When the genocide began, his family was protected by a Kurdish chief with whom they lived. After some time, when the situation had somewhat calmed, they returned to Yozgat and resumed living in their old house. For several months, they tried to reclaim the property that had been taken by their neighbors during their absence. After a dispute, they were betrayed by an Armenian convert to Islam. Turkish gendarmes arrived and killed my great-grandfather by throwing him out of a window. The family then fled, first to Lebanon. My great-uncle settled there, while my grandfather chose to continue his journey to France. He was an intellectual who dreamed of living in the land of human rights and the great thinkers Rousseau and Voltaire. France welcomed him, and he rebuilt his life and met my grandmother there.

I had the chance to live with my grandmother Varsen for several years. She was an inspiring woman, and a great grandmother. I often recalled of her and her happiness and great sense of humor. Her story and her resilience continue to inspire me every day.

For the past three years, you’ve been in charge of the AGBU France summer camp. What does this project involve?

In 2020, like so many Armenians around the world, I was traumatized by the tragedy unfolding in Artsakh before my eyes. I asked myself many questions about how I could be of use.

During my childhood and teenage years, I attended the UGAB (AGBU’s acronym in French) France summer camp. This camp had a profound impact on me, and I forged strong friendships there that, for many, still last today. It helped me understand the meaning of being Armenian. For nearly 10 years, I spent time in this magical place, first as a camper and then as a counselor.

This experience confirmed what William Saroyan beautifully expressed in his prose: once two of us meet, anything becomes possible.

I remained friends with Hermine Duzian, who has been running the camp for 31 years and whom I greatly respect. When she offered me the opportunity to help, I knew it was fate answering my questions.

For three years now, I’ve been part of the leadership of this wonderful camp. It brings together around a hundred children and twenty counselors from around the world. This year, we welcomed children from France, Armenia, Lebanon, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, and Turkey.

The days are filled with games, sports, dancing, singing, and cultural activities. The participants form strong bonds and experience their Armenian identity in the enchanting setting of the French Alps.

I’m very proud to contribute, along with Hermine and thanks to AGBU, which has supported this project for 40 years, to planting the seeds of Armenian identity that will grow and shape our future generations of Armenians.

To interested people, I would suggest visiting the AGBU summer camp website: https://ugabfrance.org/colonie-vacances?language=hye

Are you optimistic about preserving the Armenian identity in future generations of European Armenians?

It’s a difficult question. In Europe, we’re now into the fourth or even fifth generation. After integrating, Armenians have moved on to assimilation. In more and more families, the only link to Armenian identity is through memory. Remembering tragic events is important, but the diaspora needs to look to the future. Some say that fighting against assimilation is like swimming against the tide. I love challenges, and this is one we must take on. It requires effort and raises the question of what it means to be Armenian today in the diaspora.

In Europe, no one threatens us, and it’s up to us to mobilize the necessary efforts to keep our community alive. The diaspora must rethink its relationship with its identity. It shouldn’t take the attachment of younger generations to Armenia for granted. For them, the concept of Armenian identity is abstract; their parents and, increasingly, their grandparents were born in Europe. We need to work on making this connection to Armenian identity more tangible.

We must also not neglect Armenia. Plants cannot grow without roots; the diaspora should see Armenia as its homeland and draw strength from it. The relationship between Armenia and the diaspora should be viewed as bilateral: with the diaspora, Armenia is much stronger; without Armenia, the diaspora disappears.

We also need to consider how to facilitate transmission. We should develop more schools, raise our educational standards, and be demanding of ourselves. We should work on making Armenian culture more accessible. Since I started trying to teach my son Western Armenian, I’ve been astonished by the challenges I face in finding quality materials.

You’re also among the diasporan Armenians who frequently visit Armenia. What are your non-touristic impressions of Armenia’s evolution?

My partner took me to celebrate my 40th birthday in Armenia in November 2023. It had been several years since I had last been there, and I was impressed by the changes.

Due to the combined effect of the immigration of Armenians from the Middle East, the increasing number of diasporan Armenians living there, and a de-Sovietization of society, the glass wall that existed between the “spurkahays” (diasporan Armenians) and the “hayastantsis” (Armenians living in Armenia) seems to have finally been broken.

I was impressed by the political changes on the ground, as well as the country’s openness to tourism beyond the diaspora and even to immigration, which is starting to be observed, especially in Yerevan and Gyumri.

In ten years, the country has modernized significantly, and mentalities have evolved a lot. Minds have opened up. It felt like a dream; I felt at home there and I am now seriously thinking on relocating there part time. The level of education of many young people is impressive, and in some fields, the programs are comparable to European education.

Of course, the security situation worries me greatly, and my trips to the borders did not ease my concerns. But Armenians have faced many trials in their history. We must remain mobilized, be realistic about the difficulties we face, and not expect external help to magically solve our problems. We are the masters of our own destiny.

On an individual level, each of us must ask ourselves how we can be useful to our people and consider the sacrifices we are willing to make to be Armenian.

We must remain confident about the future and remember that it has never been easy to be Armenian!