The first house I made a visit to was Samvel’s.
They had been asking me to come over for some time just to have coffee or food
together, and so I finally obliged seeing as this is my final two weeks here
and I’m not really saying no to people. Samvel is a recent friend of mine, and
moved to Lehvaz less than a year ago. He’s originally from a
nearby mountain village called Varhavar and is contagiously cheerful almost all
the time. His wife, Nona, has a wicked sense of humor, and they have two sons,
Zhorik and Hakob. They don’t have a lot of money, and live a re-purposed
section of the defunct old village school that used to be used in Soviet times
when the village population was larger, when Azeris lived in Lehvaz as
well. Now the building is falling apart, but they’ve managed
to make a small corner of the building their own, with all the staples of an
Armenian home installed including a china cabinet, tv, and a simple kitchen. Outside of
their home is the old school courtyard, with a massive “Chinar” tree (massive, broad-leafed deciduous trees that grow here) and ample space for doing khorovats. If I were
a small boy, like his sons, I would probably think this huge building with its
old hallways and big unkempt courtyard was the coolest place to live ever. If I
were Samvel’s age, I’d probably want to move as soon as was feasible. Samvel
has a sort of dark history, and had spent the last two years in jail before
moving to Lehvaz this year. It’s something he doesn’t really talk about, and
which I don’t feel the need to ask about. He’s a nice guy, I can see that right
away, and I’m content with that. The first time I ever went to Samvel’s house,
his wife Nona gave me a really sweet gift for seemingly no reason at all – a large,
hand-stitched cloth square with an image of Mary and the child Jesus sewn into it. Despite how simple it is, it really is quite pretty, and I tried to
show as much gratitude as I could for the token of friendship that caught me
completely off guard. Since then I’ve come over from time to time, usually just
to chat with Samvel and Nona and maybe sip some vodka or coffee with them. On this final
occasion, we had a simple Armenian dinner of green beans fried with eggs, fresh
tomatoes, and homemade bread. We said plenty of toasts, and Samvel and I ended
up finishing the remainder of a small bottle of lemon flavored vodka that was on the table. I
said a toast thanking him and his family for their friendship, he said a toast
wishing me good luck and told me earnestly “I don’t know if you’ll remember me, but
I’ll always remember you without doubt.” I told him that I’d remember him too,
which I’ve actually been needing to tell a lot of Armenians lately, since for
some reason they seem to have a paranoia about being forgotten by me once I
leave for good. After dinner we had coffee, and I was surprised when
Zhorik, the older son, put on an old Bruce Lee movie they had lying around. I
love kung-fu movies, and Samvel found it pretty amusing how intently I was
watching the movie once it came on, despite it’s being dubbed into Russian,
which I don’t really speak a lick of.
Before it got too late, I headed out into the now quite dark old school
courtyard, the outline of the massive Chinar tree still visible, and made my
way home. This first goodbye visit had been a nice, quick one.
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