Armenia Under USSR, the youth camp in Kirovakan
In middle school, I was chosen one on 6 boys and 6 girls, accompanied by one teacher to attend the annual talented Armenian youth camp in Kirovakan – Armenia (the history of the Kirovakan will come later in the blog). I had two of my best friends on the same trip, so it sounded a no brainer, I agreed and went to the month camp.
The year was 1977, and Armenia was under the occupation of the Soviet Union under the leadership of Leonid Brezhnev. Brezhnev was the general secretary of the supreme Soviet Union for 18 years (1964-1982). He was the second longest leader after Joseph Stalin, and at his 18 years of leadership, the corruption was at its peak, the technological advancement in the USSR was at its lowest but he spent all his capabilities on the military driving the whole world to the long and exhausting cold war.
The trip was my first trip alone, and my first long distance plane trip. We had to land in Moscow, spend a night there, and next morning take a 4-hour domestic “Aeroflot air” flight (Russian national airliner) to Yerevan (the capital of Armenia). Once in Yerevan, we were picked by the organizers of the camp and drove us 2 hours in a minibus to Kirovagan which is 80 miles north of Yerevan.
The whole camp was for Armenian youths from around the world to gather and have transfer of knowledge, and compete in art, sports and, of course, Chess and Dama (also known as Armenian or Greek Droughts). Unfortunately, I have no interest in sports nor art, didn’t have any capability to sing, dance, play an instrument, or paint.
I did not play football (soccer), nor any other type of sports, nor I did ever follow any such sports. The only thing I was able to participate in, was the Chess and the Dama tournaments. I knew some chess, and I learned the Dama at that camp.
Regardless of all the bad organization, the camp looked more like a military camp than anything else, but I was happy. I spent 2 weeks with best friends and made many new friends, was my first interaction with other cultures. The camp was a month long, but we arrived 2 weeks late because of some Visa issues. After the two weeks in the camp, I spent another 2 weeks in the custody of an uncle in Yerevan, whom I have never met before.
Unfortunately, I do not have any pictures of the trip and commercial handheld videocams were not invented by then. However, because we didn’t have cameras and social media to post too, we spent our time living every moment and I can remember specific details of the trip as it was yesterday.
The camp and history of Kirovakan
I was not able to find any history of these events anywhere online or in libraries, but from what I remember it was half hour drive from the city center and the closest I could find on the map, which matches what I remember, is a camp called Artek Children camp on the Sothern part of the city, not to be mixed with Prtek youth camp on the black sea, which was totally different ideological camp.
I remember the place having a lot of landscaping, concrete and wooden stares, lot of trees, huge military camp style accommodation with Big rooms, all 12 of us were sleeping in one room, no changing rooms, so boys would change while girls are away, then the girls would change, and we would leave. The bathrooms were located down the stairs in the basement. There was a big concrete platform and stadium type seating arrangement for the morning and evening events. A big, centralized chow hall (restaurant) serving breakfast, lunch and supper at specific time and there would be a horn indicating food is ready.
Before going into details about the camp and its facilities, let me give a brief about the city nearby. The camp is located close to a city called Kirovakan. The original name of that city before the Bolshevik revolution was “Gharakilisa”, meaning the “Black Church” in Armenian, it was called that after the black rock formation there. The Kirovakan name was given to the city after 1935 Bolshevik revolution. Like any ideological revolution, the first thing they do is topple statues and erase history by changing name of cities, destroy old monuments and erect new ones serve the ideology, alter historic events in books, and the Bolshevik revolution was not an exception and did exactly that to this city.
The name “Kirovakan” was given to the city to commemorate a Soviet Bolshevik leader called “Sergei Kirov” First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Azerbaijani Communist Party. The city after the Armenian independence from the Soviet Union on December 25, 1991, it was renamed to “Vanadzor” which means the Valley of churches (Armenia is very religious country and churches are everywhere and the church is in the center of every aspect of life). Hence, now on maps there is no more Kirovakan, but there are still Hotels and shops with that name which reminds people about its Bolshevik history.
Vanadzor, now is the third largest city in Armenia after Yerevan (the Capital) and Gyumri, the capital city of Shirak Province. Vanadzor is the capital city of Lori Provence and the location of the seat of the Diocese of Gurgark of the Armenian Apostolic Church.
My life the two weeks in the camp
The whole purpose of a camp was to make Armenian youth from different parts of the world to meat, participate in activities and compete. It also, provide an opportunity to show talents and mingle with other cultures. Unfortunately for me, I did not have any talents to show nor I enjoyed seeing other people talents.
My day would start with waking up, having something to eat, hear all the rumors that the kids spread about the teachers, other boys, or girls in the camp. Brag how guys broke the curfew rules and did something heroic defying the rules of the camp.
I was never a troublemaker, but I did my share of breaking rules. I had to wash my hair and use the bathroom; the boy’s room was very filthy, and it seems the sewer was not working properly. So, I had to sneak into the girl’s restrooms which was cleaner, and that was after curfew hours (but more about that later).
Then the day starts with gathering in the assembly area with all the announcements, and the activities that was planned for the day. I would be forced to participate in one of these events. The events will end noon time, time for lunch. The lunch was usually the same famous Russian Borscht soup (pronounced Borsh) and unbreakable piece of bread, jug of water. Sometimes they would have potatoes or something else like pasta.
More than the food, my problem was in the smell of the dining facility. The smell of the kitchen was in every inch of the facility, and it was awful, one of the most gross smells I ever remember. Maybe it was the smell of boiled goat meat. My first time in the chow hall, I was going to throw up and ran out, and could not eat that day, but then the next day I had to go and eat so I had to find a solution.
We developed a way to reduce the smell impact. We used to hold our breath and run all the way to the second floor and at the far window where the smell is the least and open the window a bit and let a bit of fresh air come inside so we can berath. After finishing the food, we would run out the same way. This was the routine at every lunch and dinner, and I stopped going for breakfast.
After lunch, it was a rest time, and we use to mingle with others, spend time with other teams and of course, gossip and create stories, there would be a musical event at night before dinner, my friend was a good pianist, and others use to sing, as for me, I use to move my mouth to look like I am participating.
After the event, dinner (the same as lunch) then we go to sleep. We were 12 in one room, and there would be no chance we would sleep as planned or dictated. We would stay late talk and tell stories of the day and plan for the next day.
The bathroom problem
The worse was not the food, the worse was the restrooms. The boy’s room was always flooded and getting in was a challenge saying the least. The smell was unbearable, I use to go to bathroom once every 3 or 4 days. No face wash, no shower and no tooth brushing. We used to go at night to the girl’s bathroom with couple of the girls with us to guard the doors from out, and we use to use their cleaner restroom to brush our teeth and use the toilet.
I used to have one of the girls wash my head every 3 days. That was a challenge and a risk of being caught and disciplined, just the simple news spreading that we were using the girl’s room enough to ruin our tough reputation in the camp.
Washing my hair was a challenge because even though it was summertime, the water was ice cold, I use to enter and retract my head few times to ease the pain of that cold water numbing my head before start washing my hair. Once, my friend wanted to do the same, when he entered his head under the water, he screamed so loud that it was heard all over the building and we had to run up and pretend we were investigating the scream.
On weekends, we use to go to the public bath in the city nearby. The minibus uses to take us in groups at a time to go to one of the public baths to have a shower. We used to have our swimsuits on because we use to go in groups of 3s or 4s. The problem was that the shower faucet every time we were there had a problem, so the shower had either too cold water or too hot water, there was 10 to 15 seconds between the cold turning to very hot and vice versa and in that seconds was our window of opportunity to step under the shower.
Leaving the Camp after the 2 weeks
Before the one-month camp was over (two weeks for our team), we had the competitions. So, teams competed in sport, dance, and singing competitions, and of course chess and Dama. I won one of the Dama competition, and our team won some other art competition. However, of course everyone receive a participation trofie, like every communist regime doctrine, all are winners.
After the two- or three-day competitions, we all had a day to meet with our new friends that we will never meet again. There were no mobile numbers, and social media or emails at the time, we just waved goodbye and left with no turning back.
In our team case, we still had two weeks, so it was decided that we would stay with relatives that two weeks and we would assemble in the airport the day of the flight.
I was picked up by my uncles and left to their house the same day and then in two weeks we met with the rest of the team I the airport back to Moscow transit few hours then a plane back home. The two weeks in Yerevan with My uncle (actually he was my dad’s uncle) is a different story for my next blog where I talk about my two weeks in Yerevan, Sevan lake and Etchmiadzin during the USSR control.
Last thoughts
Life in the 70s was totally different than now, different means of entertainment, we had no gadgets, no means of keeping in touch with friends and families back home. We went to a new place, we were now part of that place, we did what the people of that area would do, we ate whatever they ate, we played what was available there we didn’t take anything from our home with us except money and clothes. We were part of that area for the whole 1 month. We adjusted, we complained but survived and got accustomed to the new life, we had tolerance for the inconvenience, and we had fun.
Although my parents were very protective, but during the whole month I cannot remember I communicated with them at all. They trusted that I would manage and no need for them to worry about me. When I came back and I told them the story of the bathrooms, the bad accommodation, the bad food, they laughed and said that is an experience and it will make me stronger person, and remind me to appreciate what I have, they did not complain to the school or had a lawsuit against the organization.
That two weeks thought me that there are parts of the world, the harsh conditions of the camp, were normal and everyday routine for them. Limited food choice, smelly eating place, smelly and dirty restrooms, having crave for simple things like simple pair of jeans, chewing gum, and nice sport shoes were things to be envied for. I cannot forget that experience and I am glad now I went to that camp.
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