ՆԻԿՈԼ ՓԱՇԻՆՅԱՆ. ԵՐԿՐԻ ՀԱԿԱՌԱԿ ԿՈՂՄԸ (մաս առաջին)/ The Other Side of the World (part I) Nikol Pashinyan

ՆԻԿՈԼ ՓԱՇԻՆՅԱՆ. ԵՐԿՐԻ ՀԱԿԱՌԱԿ ԿՈՂՄԸ (մաս առաջին)

(this is translated from the armenian article on payqar.org)

THE OTHER SIDE OF THE WORLD (Part One)

The story which I must recount to my dear reader is extraordinary for a number of reasons. I think very few expected that while being pursued, I would succeed in making a tour around the world.

Yes, yes, I am getting ready to tell you about my incredible journey around the world, which started on March 3. If memory serves me right, I am the first person who, while being pursued, has been able to travel around the world; at any rate, the first who makes it public. This is one of the reasons why my story is extraordinary. The next reason is that in the narrative of my journey, I have to be careful about the evidence, the incidents, and the exact locations where events took place. This is necessitated by my status as someone who is on the run. You understand that I cannot describe the exact locations of border crossings; I cannot mention the names of the ships on which I have traversed seas and oceans, not as much for myself, as for the safety of those who have helped and guided me along the way. Of my Armenian companions, I will mention neither the first nor the last names. Regarding my foreign-born friends, I will refer to some of them only by their first names, because in helping and guiding me, they were forced to break some of the laws of their countries. I do not want these people to have any problems with law enforcement agencies.

1. A Sudden Departure

Although I noted March 3rd as the first day of my journey, in fact, it began the night of March 1st, into the morning of the 2nd. I was in the last group to leave the area around the French embassy in the Republic of Armenia. The arena of the events of March 1 was surrounded on all sides by police, National Security Service (NSS), army and other forces of uncertain origin. As you would imagine, leaving that area was not easy, especially since several units of the NSS were pursuing me from the very beginning. And in that chase, they were right on my heels, in the true meaning of the word. Imagine, at one point less than one and one half meters separated me from one of the NSS agents. At that very moment, I was overcome by the feeling that the coming months of my life would be full of miracles, because the NSS agent, who, as I mentioned, was standing less than a meter and a half away from me, was looking right at me but did not see me. I almost put my hand to my head to see if perhaps I was wearing an “invisibility hat,” but any movement at that point would have been wrong, so I stood still, like a statue. But I won’t deny that my heart wasn’t beating like the heart of a statue, but more like the heart of a runner who had just set a new world record. My NSS friend, still looking at me with a searching gaze from a distance about the height of Serzh [Sargsyan] seemed he had not only lost his eyesight and his hearing (because he couldn’t hear the loud thumping of my heart), but his sense of smell as well. Had I not spent nine days and nine nights by the bonfires of freedom till dawn, and reeked of smoke? Despite this, the miracle took place. My hunter kept looking at me and, possibly missing the chance for a promotion, walked away.

Of course, the pursuit did not end with this, and would continue, although my compatriots at the NSS would come that close to me only one other time. By contrast to the first, this time there was a solid barrier between us; they would have discovered me had they opened the door, which didn’t happen. And that meant that my incredible journey would continue. Compared to the first incident, this second one was not even close to being a miracle, though if the first one hadn’t occurred it may have been able to make such a claim. But the first one had taken place, and had set such high standards that it wasn’t easily compared to the first one. So, in this way, the hunter went away, leaving me in a state of indecision; and I was wondering if I would end up in the prison in Yerevan or not, when I unexpectedly ran into the person who would take me to Tbilisi. I had known this man, whom I will provisionally call the Old Wise One, for a long time, but had gotten to know him more closely in May, 2007 at a sit-in on Freedom Square, a protest action which is known to the public as “1+.” That man is not at all old, but as I was realized time and time again, he is indeed wise. But if I am to write that he is wise, then I have no choice but to also call him old, according to the rules of the genre. After all, you can’t say “Young Wise One.” If he is wise, then he must also be old. And so, my meeting with the Old Wise One was quite opportune, because he was one of the few acquaintances I had left whose name was not on the list of people to be arrested. In no way can he pretend to be an organizer of massive unrest, nor could he, along with us, usurp power, because he had that power before March 1st, and he has it now. In short, according to the government, the Old Wise One is one of those people whose defense necessitates the arrest of my friends, and me.

The Old Wise One, however, did not scare at our encounter. Quite the opposite: he decided to seriously concern himself with my safety. He knew that the NSS was looking for me, he knew that the search was broadening, and that not only in Yerevan, but throughout Armenia, I had no chance of remaining a free man. As I mentioned earlier, he eventually took me to Tbilisi, in fact, without taking my opinion into account. I ended up there involuntarily. This, too, was a miracle, and may not have happened at all, since the NSS continued to pursue me, now the two of us, with them right on our heels. But they lost my trail in Dilijan. The NSS moved from Dilijan toward the village of Haghardsin, where I have relatives on my mother’s side, and then toward Ichevan, where my parents, brother and friends live. The NSS had hopes of finding me in those parts, but aware of their plans, from Dilijan we turned toward the region of Lori. I will say straight away, that the Old Wise One turned out to have strong ties in, and knowledge of the forests and ravines of the region of Lori. Because of that it was not particularly difficult for us to preplan misleading, that is, secured routes, and with the help of the locals, to actualize the plan, emerging at a deserted section of the Armenian-Georgian border and then cross the border. In the end, we surfaced in Javakhk, and this journey forced me to wonder if the Old Wise One was using his position of authority to engage in contraband. Regardless, if he can smuggle such a hunted man out of the country without any obstacles, then he can import and export goods with equal success. These doubts deepened when it turned out that he had a house in Tbilisi, but at this moment that man was my benefactor, and the law-enforcement bodies were searching for me, not for him.

And in that way I did not get to see Lake Parvana. When I told my companion of my desire to be on the banks of that lake, he mocked me, “Are you a tourist, or a criminal?” My argument, that it is possible to mix pleasure with the practical, did not gain any foothold and we soon surfaced in Tbilisi. And the Old Wise One, having handed me over to my new companion, left. At that time I did not know that I would again meet with the Old Wise One during my long journey, a journey that had started involuntarily and would, equally involuntarily, become a journey around the world.

Nikol Pashinyan
May 7, 2008