Souren Vetsigian

ADRIFT BY EVENTS Until our arrival to this village, and even some time later, I was a mere straw in the stream of events. Only occasionally I had thought about my destiny and made some kind of decision. The most important occasion, when I was called to make a decision was at the time, when my friends asked me if I was willing to run away with them. My assent altered the destiny of my brother and myself and saved us from certain death. After our arrival in Ghayi we had to accept our lot. We had no alternative - the external events were too strong for us and guided our destinies.

Then came the flight from Ghayi with my adopted family. I was the only Armenian in the company, the others remained in Ghayi. But I couldn’t raise any question as to what would happen with my brother. Partly because nobody knew where we were going, and partly because I was helplessly at the mercy of my mistress. To raise such a question would mean reviving our past connections and our racial origin. They would think that we were not sincere in becoming Moslems and acquiescing to the new arrangement, according to which we were members of different families.

When we arrived in Geosman, our meager supply of food was already exhausted, and our host was not able to feed us well. It was decided, therefore, that I should be given to a family in that village, as hired laborer. Thereby not only our host would have one person less to feed, but also I would receive wages to support my mistress and her children. I was very glad of this plan. First of all, I would go to a home where I would have enough to eat. Then also I was sincerely glad to be able to pay my debt of gratitude to the family that supported me so long. It was nice to feel, that I was a valuable person. It was agreed, that at any time I might go back to my former family, and if they were to go back to their village, they would take me also with them.

The new family was composed of three members - a man past fifty, a crippled wife and a daughter of about twenty years old. The man was called Kior Duran (Blind Duran), because he was a little cross-eyed. He was short, sturdy and strong.

Sometimes he was called Dely Duran (Crazy Duran), because, as neighbors told me from the first days, he had a very bad temper. When he got angry, he did not think of the consequences of his actions, and the villagers were afraid of him. During my subsequent experiences with him, however, I discovered that this was untrue and he never was the fearsome man described to me. Not once has he beaten me and he has seldom scolded me. Of course, the fact that I served him with honesty and faithfulness had some share in his kind behavior, but it is to his credit, that he could appreciate honesty and faithfulness. It is a different matter, that I was exploited by him.

My new mistress was a beautiful woman, though terribly crippled. She was a second wife, she had been divorced. The daughter was from a former wife, quite kind and very diligent. My master had had two sons, the elder one married, and both had been taken to military service. The elder one had returned sick and soon after had died. The widow had returned to her parents. My master used to say, that there was no news from the second son. But some of his son’s comrades, deserters from the army, would say that he was killed.

My new master was not rich. He had only a pair of oxen, a few cows and a donkey, but he had a better home compared to the home I had come from. The houses in this village were clean and tidy, as usual built of mud bricks. They had no paved floors. The gates were so wide, that the carts could be taken in. On one side of the hall they would have the hearth. Inside, on the same level, would be two more