As our bus made its way through the streets of Shushi towards the city center, the city's heritage lay apparent in its landscape. Half of the buildings still lay in ruins, noticeably damaged from the war that engulfed the city over a decade ago and still affects the lives of every person living in Karabagh. Among those buildings were the mosque that still stands, though noticeably damaged, and the new church up the street in downtown Shushi. In contrast to the capital of Stepanakert where the streets were better paved than Yerevan's, Shushi's roads, like the rest of its infrastructure, were almost completely dilapidated. As we neared our destination, local children started flocking towards our large bus.

After dinner at Hotel Shushi, our assembly of volunteers was split up into small groups of three or four and distributed to locals who would be providing us with a place to stay and breakfast for the weekend. The woman who would play the role of caretaker for my two roommates and I was named Tikin Anoush. Tikin Anoush was a corpulent woman in her mid thirties whose joviality emanated from every part of her being. A refugee from Baku that lost her husband during the war, Tikin Anoush settled in Shushi a little over a decade ago. Like most Armenians from Baku, she knew Russian much better than she knew Armenian. Her dialogue, a mix of Russian, Armenian and Turkish, was difficult to fully comprehend, but nonetheless communication was never an issue.

We arrived in our makeshift hotel room a little after 10PM. "This used to belong to the Turks," Tikin Anoush explained, "that's why there's no toilet." At first I didn't realize what she meant, but upon further investigation I discovered what could only be described as a nicely tiled and extremely clean outhouse with running water. The rest of the apartment looked no different than any other apartment built during Soviet times.

Neither I, nor any of my roommates had ever been in Karabagh before, and despite the 10-hour journey, none of us was thinking about sleep. We asked Tikin Anoush if we could go out and explore the city. "I could not let you guys go out alone," she explained. Thus, Tikin Anoush and her friend Vacho decided to give us a tour. Vacho was also a resident of Shushi and a veteran of the war. He even took part in the taking of Shushi and now works as a police officer, one of the few residents of Shushi with employment.

Our tour lasted a couple of hours. We walked through most of Shushi with a couple of flashlights. We got brief but detailed information as we walked past certain landmarks. "This fountain is dedicated to the two boys who lived in that house and died during the war," we were told as Vacho pointed across the street. We went to the statue of Vazgen Sarksian. "Look at the way he's sitting there, it's like he's watching over the city," Tikin Anoush told us. Our tour ended at a little cafe in front of Hotel Shushi where we sat down and had a couple of beers. During our conversation, one of my roommates asked Tikin Anoush if there was anything she would like us to tell Arkady Gukasian during our meeting the next day. "Yes," she answered, "we need jobs."

What her demeanor would never suggest and her pride would never let her tell us frankly was that Tikin Anoush had been unemployed since she moved to Shushi and was in desperate need of money. She did not even have a refrigerator; all of her perishables were passed up through the window to the upstairs neighbor for storage. The money she would get from Birthright Armenia for housing three volunteers was the only source of income she had for herself and her son. Nonetheless, her spirits were as high as the city itself.

We walked to the bus together our last morning; my two roommates, Tikin Anoush and me. We took a picture together before getting on the bus. I assured her I would email the pictures to her when I get back home. That's right, she might not have much, but she does have an email address.

Tikin Anoush was just that type of person.

Samvel Setyan (USA)
Birthright Armenia Volunteer
2006