Support independent journalism in Central & Eastern Europe.
Donate to TOL!
In a mountain village in eastern Armenia, nearly all of the men have left in search of work. From EurasiaNet.by Gayane Abrahamyan and Justyna Mielnikiewicz 15 March 2011
DZORAGYUGH, Armenia | Each year, International Women’s Day arrives on 8 March in the Armenian village of Dzoragyugh amid a dark cloud of irony. Ninety-eight percent of the village’s male population – nearly half of its population of 5,000 people – has migrated abroad in search of work. Those residents left behind jokingly call their village “a women’s club,” a place where women do everything – plow fields, raise children, officiate at funerals, and somehow, through sheer grit, try to hold their fragmented families together.
Labor migration’s impact on Armenia’s economy has long been the subject of international studies, but its impact on the families left behind has largely escaped study. In Dzoragyugh, though, and other villages in the eastern region of Gegharkunik, that impact is difficult to ignore.
With an estimated 17,000 to 20,000 of the region’s residents migrating abroad each year to find work, Gegharkunik boasts Armenia’s highest rate of labor migration – up to 8 percent of its population of 243,000, according to the National Statistical Service.
Most of these migrants, overwhelmingly men, return each autumn, but some simply vanish.
“Every time I close the door behind him, I feel like the house walls are collapsing,” said school principal Heriknaz Khachatrian, a mother of four, who, on her own, plows and sows fields, and tends cows and pigs when her husband leaves for Moscow each spring. “The whole burden of the household falls on my shoulders, and the worst thing is that you never know whether your husband will return or not.”
Accidents, often at construction sites, frequently claim lives; Russian women pose another threat, say some of Dzoragyugh’s left-behind wives.
Thirty-two-year-old Zabel Hovanian, a mother of five girls, was 16 years old and pregnant when her husband left to find work in Moscow. She has as many children as her husband’s visits home. The youngest, a 3-year-old, has never seen her father.
In the 16 years since he left Dzoragyugh for Russia, Hovanian’s husband has found another “wife,” a term used for a man’s girlfriend who lives with him outside of marriage. Hovanian recalled how her enraged husband reacted when she called his Russian girlfriend to talk with her. “He said ‘I told her that you are my sister. If you dare call one more time, I’ll come and kill both you and the children,’ ” Hovanian said.
Despite such threats and her husband’s ongoing absence, Hovanian, whose sole income comes from 50,000-dram (about $130) monthly welfare payments, said she would still take her husband back if he ever returned home. “I would accept him for my children’s sake,” she explained. “If I didn’t, the whole village would blame me; and I have four daughters to marry off. My disgrace would become their disgrace.”
Hovanian’s case is not unique. While many such men bring their Russia-born children to meet their Armenian half-siblings, and attempt to support both families, many others simply disappear, said Russian-language teacher Laura Hovhannisian.
“It’s hard to stay a woman in a village,” Hovhannisian said. “We till the land here, work like men, and our husbands often feel enchanted by Russian women’s beauty and carefree spirits, and are unable to return to village life.”
Breaking their legal ties with vanished husbands is not an option for the women of Gegharkunik, one of the most conservative and traditional regions in Armenia.
While Armenians generally frown on a second marriage for a divorced woman or widow, “in Gegharkunik, it’s simply prohibited by an unwritten law,” sociologist and pollster Aharon Adibekian said. “Especially if the husband is alive but has abandoned his family.”
The economically viable options for these men to stay in Gegharkunik, though, are not many. Farming is not profitable in the region’s 49 highland villages; winter can last for up to six months. Soviet-built industrial plants that once offered area residents an opportunity to earn an alternative living have long since closed.
Faced by dire unemployment, about 1.1 million people are believed to have left Armenia since 1991, according to the UN Development Program. Labor migration remittances on average now surpass Armenia’s annual government budget by 10 percent.
To Artsvik Haroutiunian, a 51-year-old resident of Dzoragyugh, the word “migration” is synonymous with loss. When her husband left 20 years ago for Russia to find a job, she believed his support would mean she would live without want. In the end, Haroutiunian lost to labor migration not only her husband, who dropped contact with the family, but her 23-year-old son, who died in an accident.
Now Haroutiunian focuses on trying to convince her remaining 16-year-old son not to follow his father and brother to Russia. “Every time I hear the word migration, I feel like dying of pain and anguish,” she said with a sigh. “If only our country provided jobs, my husband wouldn’t have left, nor would have my son.”
Going on Assignment in Prague – January 7-15, 2018
Do you have a passion for foreign reporting? Would you like to develop your skills further or simply gain more confidence? This course is aimed at university students, freelance journalists or activists who would like to gain some practical skills in this field. You’ll learn the best tricks of the trade from storytelling and interviewing techniques to locating your sources and incorporating multimedia.
Throughout the course you will be guided by experienced foreign correspondents from media such as Reuters, the BBC, the Financial Times, and the New York Times. You’ll leave equipped with a publishable story to add to your portfolio. Early bird fee available until September 1, 2017. Apply now! or see more info.
The Moldovan Diaries is a multimedia, interactive examination of the country's ethnic, religious, social and political identities by Paolo Paterlini and Cesare De Giglio.
This innovative approach to story telling gives voice to ordinary people and takes the reader on the virtual trip across Moldovan rural and urban landscapes.
It is a unique and intimate map of the nation.