Turkey: The Musah Dagh Hike Experience

Musah Dagh

Antakya- Turkey…

The IofC Musah Dagh hike project…In remembrance

"Musa Dagh (Musa Ler in Armenian) was the site of the famed resistance during the Armenian Genocide. Of the hundreds of villages, towns, and cities across the Ottoman Empire whose Armenian population was ordered removed to the Syrian desert, Musa Dagh was one of only four sites where Armenians organized a defense of their community against the deportation edicts issued by the Young Turk regime beginning in April 1915. By the time the Armenians of the six villages at the base of Musa Dagh were instructed to evict their homes, the inhabitants had grown suspicious of the government's ultimate intentions and chose instead to retreat up the mountain and to defy the evacuation order. Musa Dagh, or the Mountain of Moses, stood on the Mediterranean Sea south of the coastal town of Alexandretta (modern-day Iskenderun) and west of ancient Antioch."*

"With a few hundred rifles and the entire store of provisions from their villages, the Armenians on Musa Dagh put up a fierce resistance against a number of attempts by the regular Turkish army to flush them out. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Armenians had little expectations of surviving the siege of the mountain when food stocks were depleted after a month."*

 

And we, a group of 16 people, had the opportunity to hike that mountain, get a sense of their journey, and explore one of the remaining Armenian villages of that time.

Our journey started at 4:30am from Beirut Airport, where all 16 of us gathered and got ready to launch ourselves. We flew from Beirut to Istanbul and Istanbul to Hatay, where Musah Dagh is located. The hotel that we stayed in faced the ocean. The view was spectacular and the air was fresh, coming straight from the sea. We went to our rooms freshened up, unpacked, changed our clothes and prepared ourselves for the next phase of our journey. We had a Turkish lunch, hopped back on to the bus and headed to one of the few standing Armenian villages. As we drove up the hills heading towards the village, a view of the ocean was slowly revealing itself, a huge lively bluish beauty, there since the beginning of time, with so much to say, whispering with its gentle dancing waves, “I’ve seen it all, and this too shall pass”,the wisest form of existence. Clouds covered the neighboring mountains, and cold breeze blew from a distance.

The shore of Antakya

In a village called Vakif, we headed to one of the old Armenian Churches, the area was so quiet and peaceful, having fought an overwhelming battle for survival, and yes it did, it survived, celebrating its victory with a peaceful silence, but the cost it had to pay was a deep pain that still echoed in the silence. Along the sides of the church were two old cemeteries, holding onto the roots of ancient and recent souls. Back to the Church, we got off the bus and went straight into the church’s front yard. Armenian people were sitting on the porches, welcoming us as we explored our way in. We headed to one of the rooms where we gathered to have our first workshop and discussion,it was held and facilitated by a person dear to my heart. It was to set the context of our 4 day journey; the title was Map of the World, discussing how we view an object from different perspectives, thus giving it different realities. Main objective behind it was how to adjust these realities, hence adjusting our worlds that we live in through different phases, by simply changing our perspectives. After the workshop ended, we headed towards the cemeteries, paying our respects and recognizing the souls that once walked on this earth. It felt like walking through a beautiful small garden, with the huge old trees, standing tall, guarding these graves, and flowers jumping from one to another announcing the arrival of the visitors. I have always wondered, admired the peace in such places, that harmonious flow of birth and death, trees and flowers surrounding the cold still graves. Our next stop was an ancient Armenian church, abandoned for years; it was carved into walls from old rocks, built of carved stones, and ancient inscriptions. We had candles with us, and lighted them as we silently stepped into the arms of that cold dark church. Nothing spoke of life in that church, but it screamed life. We silently looked around touching the walls, like a gentle kiss on a dying forehead, “you’re not forgotten, we’re here for you”. We then gathered in a circle as reverend Bruce, who was a member of our team, opened a crack in the past, showing us what once stood there, and what happened in that very village. The glowing torch of history was passed to one of our Armenian friends who was on board, sharing one of the stories that was passed by his grandfather, a story of life and death, of pain and joy reborn. We concluded our visit by placing our candles in the openings of the church’s walls, shedding light in its hushed corners. As we were done, the church was glowing, it smiled back at us with a tear, and an unspoken promise from our side that we’ll be back and restore that portal of faith in you.

The Old Armenian Church

The Candles that we lid

We then headed back to the bus with the sun setting, clouds thickening, and the breeze getting colder. We arrived at our place, ready to take shower, have dinner and head to sleep. The ocean was so tempting and the sun had not fully set yet. I wasn’t the only one, Athalia, a very dear friend,very close to my heart and couple of other friends, decided to put our swimming suites on and head towards the beach, jumping into the water with the wind blowing and waves fueling. The setting sun on the cool water was the perfect reflection of what lied within, running into its depth with joy and happiness, leaving everything behind for a while and giving our bodies that chance to express itself. After an hour of swim we headed back to our place, finally took shower, had our dinner and then we had the evening to ourselves. Some of us went on sitting on the benches facing the beach, others had small gatherings over Turkish tea, some went to bed, I and two of my friends headed towards the shore. The sun was already gone, and darkness was at its peak, but that peak wasn’t complete as it was invaded by the glowing moon, and a starry sky. We sat near the growling waves looking at the sky and gliding down to the depth of the ocean. It was one of those moments that words fail to describe. I couldn’t help but remember the people I love most and appreciate; I ended my night in silence, with a prayer for all of those whom I value the most. Finally we crawled to our beds, and slept holding on to the present moment.

On the second day, we were supposed to hike the mountain but we postponed it till the next day due to an approaching storm. We had our breakfast followed by a small session held by Dr. Eugune, one of the main persons who turned this dream project into reality. The session was an overview of the historical events that took place in the region and on Musah Dagh. After that session, we had our free time, half of us decided to go and visit Antakya city, and the other half decided to explore the neighboring villages and spend more time there, I was in the second half. After lunch, we dispersed. We went back to Vakif village, started with an old abandoned temple that was facing the beach. The stones were huge, I couldn’t help myself but wonder about how it looked when people lived here. We then went on to meet one of the village’selderly person who was kind enough to share with us a story of that place, opening the space for us for any questions we wanted to ask in order to explore. It was eye-opening indeed. A great feeling that stories of that time are still alive in people’s hearts and it got passed on to ours. Later, we went to the center of the village where an ancient, old tree stood, called the wishing tree.It was breathtakingly enormous covering the village’s central square. From that point, we decided to explore our way by foot walking into the village, and have a sense of the villagers’ lives. We aimed to walk towards that old church that we were at yesterday. The streets were beautiful, and trees covered both sides of the road, it was so full of life, women picking grapes, and others oranges from the trees, some on their balconies sipping tea and others having their quiet afternoons on the benches. As we walked around for about 15 minutes, we bumped into kids who had bikes and were riding it with smiles all over their faces. We had some failed attempts of communicating with them in Turkish. One of the kids, Ahmad, spoke some English, so he became our translator! I asked for a ride and they were kind enough to lend me their bike, such joy, riding around freely! Later, we continued our walk towards the church, and dispersed, Athalia and I spent our time with the kids, riding their bikes, and having random, funny conversations with the three kids. Others went back to the church, some had the cameras on and wondered around clicking shots of old abandoned Armenian houses, and natural sceneries. As we headed back towards the bus, we stopped at a random window with an old meat mincer, while taking a picture, a guy came out calling us, and we said “sorry”, thinking we disturbed him. He started gesturing, pointing out to the camera and into his house, we found this odd, but it turned out that he was inviting us in. “Why not?!”, we entered and there was a spectacular view from his balcony, it was amazing, with the scenery of the beach, green hills, and dispersed houses of the village. “The only thing that is missing is having a cup of tea on the balcony, I wish we could stay here for a while”, I thought out aloud to Athalia and Fatima. And then from the inside of his house his wife came out, with a bright smile on her face.  She greeted us warmly and welcomed us. The guy said “Coffee?”, “No, no thank you”, we asked. “Tea?”, “ Hader”, he said again, meaning the tea is ready. My face just brightened up and I looked at Athalia and Fatima “TEA!!!” yup my wish was answered and I had the opportunity to sit on that balcony with my beloved people drinking Turkish tea with the locals. We sat down and exchanged conversations, they spoke some Arabic. Later on his daughters came, a 10 year old and 4 year old, with the most beautiful smiles anyone could imagine. His 10 year old daughter spoke some proper English; it was such a heartwarming afternoon. Soon we had to leave because the guys were ahead of us. As we left their house, we said our goodbyes, and waved to them, we met Rhea and Reverend Bruce, they too had their special welcoming experiences; they had a small tour in somebody’s goat farm, and met his family. As we went down heading back to the bus, we saw an old lady picking flowers in front of her house, we waved to her and she called us to approach her, reverend Bruce went to her, and she picked three flowers for him. As we went down, we couldn’t stop jumping around, laughing and talking about random stuff. “You know? My day would be complete if I could have a bike ride around; I wish I could do that”. Few minutes later a guy with his red bike came, offering a ride. I couldn’t believe my eyes, “YESSSSS I’ll GOOO”, I hopped right behind him, waved to the rest, “Have a nice walk”. I was overwhelmed with happiness and joy. The guy spoke fluent Arabic, askedmy name, country I came from. He asked about the reason we were there, and I shared with him, he offered to take me to a church. As we drove he said “I used to work in Saudi Arabia”, “What?? I used to live in Jeddah and my father still works there”. I said with my eye brows flying up in the air. “I worked there for 5 months, what’s your father’s name?”, and I told him. “KID!! I know your father”, and he knew where he worked. He named the restaurants that he worked in; one was next to our place where we used to live. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, am on a bike ride with a random Turkish guy in an old village, who apparently knew my father! What are the odds of that happening? God is everywhere indeed. As I arrived at the church, Went back to the bus because we were running out of time. My group was there, we went on the bus, and I told them what happened, they couldn’t believe it, it’s indeed a miracle! We went back to the hotel, the first half of the group was there already, we walked around the beach and went to one of the restaurants, grabbed our sandwiches and ate on the shore. And again we concluded our day with a goodnight sleep. Keeping in mind that our awaited hike was the next day and we had to wake up at 4:00am.

Negotiating with the kids for a ride :D

The next morning we woke up, got dressed, hiking shoes on, backpacks, snacks, water and all the necessary stuff we needed. 4:30 breakfast, and at 5:00 headed straight to the mountain. We had a truck arranged for us, all 16 of hopped on and rode a 20 minutes’ drive straight up the hills. As we drove up the sun was slowly rising greeting us, it was cold, but happy cold, everything was lining up perfectly. We arrived to our spot with our guide “Torus”. We walked and hiked our way through. The greenery was spectacular,the weather was sunny and very pleasant. The track was clear but rocky. As we marched through the mountains we saw plain land between every two mountains. Cows were scattered all over the plains, and there were a whole lot of old destroyed houses made of stones, at least 500 hundred years old. We had a brief break during which we heard sharings and stories of the journey that the Armenians had to endure on that spot. Later on we marched for almost three hours and reached a spot with a beautiful view, all green mountains and trees covering the landscapes. We rested in an open spot for 15min and then headed straight towards the peak. We saw small houses of farmers who lived up there, with their goats and cows, a liberating way of living, in the open spaces with limited materials to live on. We weren’t far from our goal, an hour later we reached the spot we were aiming for. There stood an old ship statue made of huge bricks of stones, clouds were covering the site. We gathered next to that ship, and sat, and listened to some more sharings, we opened another portal to the past. And we sat in silence for a while. We went onto the edge of the Musah Dagh mountain, and there stood a breath taking view of the ocean from far away. It was the route which the Armenians took while evacuating the Dagh as the Ottoman Turks followed them. A while later we headed towards a spring down the other side of the mountain, where we had our lunch. We carried fish with us that we grilled on the fire. We had a good two hour’s rest there, listened to music, had little chats, and a small competition of tossing stones with a stick. Our friend, Charlot from Liverpool defeated us all with her swings. Something worth mentioning is that during our hike and as we were having our lunch, we could clearly hear the bombings on the other side of the far mountain, it was Syria. While we were there remembering and going through the history of the Armenian Genocide, other stories and genocides were happening on the other side of the country. It was heart breaking, I couldn’t help but to wonder how many lives were lost behind with every bomb we heard. “A moment of prayer for Syria”.

We finished our lunch and were ready for our final phase of the trip. We planned to build an Armenian cross with pieces of cloth, on which we wrote our prayers and wishes. We gathered and started working on it, putting pieces of our hearts on those clothes, wishes, prayers and shared thoughts. We stood encircling the flag going through our prayers, and sharing them. After a while we wrapped it up and buried it underneath a pile of rocks next to that old ship statue. After that we headed straight back to the truck of almost a three hour ride downwards. We all had this feeling of fulfillment and sense of achievement. As we were going down, we agreed to go for a swim as soon as we arrived, no matter what. We reached the truck, had some fruit, shared some jokes and silly games around, and stood on the edges of the truck viewing the scenery of the hills and the ocean,a mixture of them all. Soon we arrived, dived straight into our swimming suites and rushed towards the beach, it was a bit cold and the sun was setting, but that didn’t stop us and we had a swim, stretched our muscles, raced, splashed, and sighed. I stood there in the water as the sun started to set down. It was just the ideal ending for a beautiful day.

Our Ride

The plains between the mountains on our way to the Dagh, piles of Rocks of an old house that once was standing there

The Old Statue of the Ship

Having our grilled fish at the spring after reaching the top of the Dagh

The Cross that we built, inscribed with our prayers and wishes on

 On the final day, we had a final debrief of the past three days and finally visiting the city Antakya with all of us as a group before heading to the airport.We had our breakfast and took on our final bus ride. We drove a distance of 5km, far from the place we were staying in. It was a beautiful road that aligned the shore. We finally arrived at our destination and headed to a huge rocky side of the beach and sat there to have our concluding ceremony. As we walked along the shore towards the huge rock, reverend Bruce asked us to pick two pebbles. We reached the huge rock and sat under the shades facing the beach. Dr. Eugene started with reading a part of the final chapter of the MusahDagh novel, closing the final portal of that historical overview. Then Athalia pitched in with a quick go through of what happened during these days, a recall of facts, how we felt, and what are our next steps would be after such an experience, what is it that we’ll carry with us from the whole thing. And finally Reverend Bruce asked us to hold those two stones with both of our hands separately and to pray, and to speak out the title of our prayer with one word or phrase and after our prayers to make a wish, and after we’re done, to walk silently and throw one stone to the ocean and keep the other one with us. As the prayers started,every one of us shared  a word of our prayers, “Strength”, “Peace”, “Faith”, “Patience”, “Love”, “Family”, “Armenia”, “Lebanon”, “Freedom”, “Guidance”, words that everyone shared, and shuffling as the wind blew. Then silently everyone dispersed throwing their stones into the ocean, all of us leaving pieces of our hearts in that place knowing that they’ll stay there forever and never fade away.

Gathering our Peddles

The debriefing 

Finally we headed back to the bus and straight to the city of Antakya. It was a beautiful place, stacked with people all over, we looked around the shops, bought what we wanted to buy, souvenirs and gifts for our friends and families. We had Turkish shawarmas and ice-creams and were ready to say our goodbyes to the place after some decent hours spent in that town, we headed straight to the airport, all enriched and satisfied with what we gained and experienced. Ready to pursue our dreams, carrying a bit of history, a part that was once almost forgotten but not anymore, it’s alive in all of our hearts: Hagop, Athalia, Reverend Bruce, Rhea, Nshan, Jinan, Mark, Dr. Eugene, Francesca, George, Fatima, Garo, Big Hagop, Charlot, Berj, and myself.

Praying for Athalia's booking process to London 

We swore to pass it on and keep this memory alive and vibrating within us.

On our way back home :)

*Rouben Paul Adalian, Encyclopedia Entries on the Armenian Genocide, http://www.armenian-genocide.org/musa_dagh.html, 2014.

Feeling Stuck: It's just a feeling!

South Of Lebanon, The woods

It was one of the best experiences of my life, a speeding non-stop train filled with excitement of stepping into the unknown with a great will and a heart filled with love, with friends hand in hand. Lessons in everyday, inspiration in every corner, and love in every touch. And all of a sudden that train had to stop. And I had to go back home.

Coming back home to Lebanon after being in India for 6-months. The moment we stepped into the airport, Fatima and I shared nothing but few words of “this way”, “I’m going to bring some water”, “I think it’s this gate”, “What time is it?, “I think it’s time”, “Let’s go”.

The whole return journey was a mourning journey; it felt like I was heading to a funeral. The plane landed after an 8 hours flight, and a transit form Mumbai to Sharja, and from Sharja to Lebanon. I looked at Fatima and said words that I barely had the energy to believe in anymore, with all what’s left from my beating heart, “we are here in a mission and we are here to make a difference”, she smiled back and we pushed our language carts. Main exit: Our parents were there, fully dressed up with their beautiful smiles and flowers in their hands. In split seconds we found ourselves in our mothers’ embrace, shooting us with kisses of flames and tears of joy. It was really amazing seeing my family again. I waved to Fatima and her family, and rode the car heading home. Everything seemed the same yet so different. Only God knew what was going inside. Reached home, felt so relaxed yet tensed. I miss home, yet my heart is still not with me. My comfortable warm bed was there, and our living room was awaiting. I rushed to the bathroom, to take a shower change my clothes and freshen up. I locked the door, sat on the floor in the corner and wept like a toddler, lost and confused, only wondering how is it going to be for me from that moment on. I gathered myself, took my shower, and went straight to bed. Days passed, seeing my old friends and the rest of my relatives, faces that I always knew looked so strange and so different, I felt like I don’t belong here anymore, I felt like my wings were chopped, I felt “trapped”.

That struggle went up and down for a month, living my life virtually chatting with my friends in India, always talking how much we've missed each other, almost all day long behind my laptop or on my phone, and when I am out with my friends or family I just couldn’t wait to get back home and have some internet connection. I wasn’t present at all with any of my family members or friends. 

Every morning I woke up with an anxious beating heart, terrified from the free time that I had, were my demons played singing the poem of "You're worthless, it's the end for you, you're stuck, you've got nothing". A constant battle, a fear of solitude, a fear of being free and not being occupied, a fear of silence and quiet, because then! I'll had to face myself, and be with myself, I had to rethink what I want and what really matters, and where am I heading for. Being blind from the fact that after such an experience, my soul was craving calmness, solitude, settlement, and free time. I bumped into one of Paulo Coelho's writings:

Solitude:

For those who are not frightened by the solitude that reveals all mysteries, everything will have a different taste.

In solitude, they will discover the love that might otherwise arrive unnoticed. In solitude, they will understand and respect the love that left them.

In solitude, they will be able to decide whether it is worth asking that lost love to come back or if they should simply let it go and set off along a new path.

In solitude, they will learn that saying ‘No’ does not always show a lack of generosity and that saying ‘Yes’ is not always a virtue.

And those who are alone at this moment, need never be frightened by the words of the devil: ‘You’re wasting your time.’
Or by the chief demon’s even more potent words: ‘No one cares about you.’

The Divine Energy is listening to us when we speak to other people, but also when we are still and silent and able to accept solitude as a blessing.

And in that moment, Its light illumines everything around us and helps us to see that we are necessary, and that our presence on Earth makes a huge difference to Its work.

And slowly as time passed I started to understand why I was in such a phase, and I had to face myself with the questions that I was avoiding for a long while.

That calmness had a lesson behind it, a lesson of needed appreciation and rebuilt faith. Appreciating what once was, and faith in what's coming.

And at the end of the month I reached to a point where it was “it” for me. It’s not how I want to spend my couple of months in here, not this way, I am leaving soon, and I need to make the best out of it. Accepting the fact that it was a painful month and that I missed my friends, accepting the fact that I am back to the “real world”, and accepting the fact that it’s all needed and part of the process for me to ingest everything and let it sink in. But from now on, I am going to be present, and I’ll open my eyes to the fact that the extraordinary also exists in the very ordinary. And yes it did. I decided that happiness is indeed a choice, I choose to be happy with what I am in, realizing that after every up there is a definite down, a down for us to feel gratefulness, for us to count our blessings, and for us to recharge, transform and grow stronger. I slowly started cutting down the hours I spent online, slowly merging into reality, slowly engaging with the real life, being there for my family and my friends. I was sick of being encircled with all of the negative thoughts, with all of the destructive ones, with that feeling of worthlessness. Forgetting how much you matter to the people that love you and care about you, not only do you hurt yourself, but also you hurt them.

After all of these thoughts, home started to change, started to look more liberating, started to look wider, and more beautiful, full of mysteries waiting to be discovered, full with hearts that supported mine. Never felt that relaxed or comfortable before.

Fellow, it’s a luxury these days, to have couple of months for yourself, no university, no work, no commitments, and no responsibilities, just you and your free time, for you to reflect and to spend the rest of the remaining days with the ones you love. To explore yourself and to look deep within, to ask and wonder what is it that I want? And how to achieve it? “It’s the point fix” the pause before the take off.

And I did find a way to step out of my mind. It’s a fast paced world we’re living in, try to cut down your exposure to fast information and engagement in many lives that only makes you drained and unfocused. So I slowly started disconnecting from the virtual world, I deactivated my Facebook account, after being extremely hesitant, but it gave such a liberating feeling I have missed for a long while. I started to engage in the little to do stuff in life that made such a huge difference, my talks were more face to face than virtual ones, my eager to connect physically grew, and my passion to explore more grew, my creativity grew. I created more time to do the things that I loved the most, such as reading, drawing and writing, being more out there with real people than in with virtual ones and it felt so much more liberating. I am leaving Lebanon in less than two months, and my aim is to be present here as much as I can, to recharge myself, and spread those wings again.

You also can do it, the hardest step is the first one, and later on all shall come on time.

As Buddah said, “A situation is neutral it’s up to us to decide if it’s positive or negative”

It's always a struggle and we never stay in one state, but it's in our hands to decide to stand up after falling back. Where am I now? I am in the grey zone, in a split road, two closed doors, not knowing what's lying behind the other, but I'll hold on to that faith and my heart will always lead me to the place I meant to be in, and do what I am meant to do.

And remember, “Happiness IS a choice”, and I choose to be happy.