Summer Memories in Yerevan

Growing up, my sister and I spent summers with our mother's relatives in Yerevan. For two months, every two years, we became neighbors with the children of the neighbors she grew up with.

Playing Outside and Learning Politics

Most days were spent outside, long after the sun had set and you could hardly see your own hands. In our bak (neighborhood), politics were learned through games.

Games with the Boys and Girls

Footbol with the boys. Gorc-na-gorts with the girls. But the clap games were desegregated. One of my favorites was a sing-song about pork belly, played in pairs. It went like this:

A Rhythmic Game

Խոզուկը խորոված,

Խոզուկը տապակած,

Խոզուկը ապրել էր ուզում,

Բայց նրան բռնեցին,

Կախաղան հանեցին,

Դանակը փորը կոխեցին։

The piglet, grilled,

The piglet, fried,

The piglet wanted to live,

But they caught it,

They hanged it,

And plunged the knife into its belly.

We clapped to the rhythm, laughing at the piglet's fate. But on the last line, we pointed our index fingers at our partner's stomach. Whoever managed to pierce the belly first shouted "plunged!" and won the game. In the end, one of us always became the new pig.

Innocence and Dark Realities

We played, not knowing how much of our future was already written into the rules. So much of our animal language carries an impolite second meaning. A chicken is a coward. A fox is untrustworthy. A sheep is mindless. And, of course, a pig is a slob. All lack the most fundamental of human emotions: dignity.

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