+-----------------------------------------------------------+ 	|                                                           | 	| "There's no room for Christians here!" and "When we       | 	| finish with the Armenians, we'll go after the Russians!"  | 	|                                                           | 	+-----------------------------------------------------------+  DEPOSITION OF KARINE BORISOVNA MELKUMIAN [1]  Born 1963 Teacher Boarding School No. 1  Resident at Building 2B, Apartment 21 Block 41A Sumgait [Azerbaijan]  This is my fate: I had everything, we were a happy family, and now, at 25, I've become a widow, I'm left to raise my three children alone; the third, not yet two months old, was born in Yerevan. Igor and I had thought that if it was  a girl we would call her Raisa, after my mother-in-law, and if it was a boy,  we'd call him Arsen, after Igor's grandfather. I had a girl, and I, without Igor, named her Raisa, in honor of her dead grandmother.  Our family and the Melkumians had been neighbors since 1965. Igor and I grew  up together, we were friends from childhood on. We got engaged when I was 16.  In 1981, when I was 18, we were married. Two children were born to us in  Sumgait. My daughter is now 6 years old, her name is Kristina, and my son, Seryozha, is four and a half.  First I shall tell what happened on February 27. That day on my way home from  work I passed Lenin Square, where about 1,500 people had gathered. There were  Komsomol members there, and Pioneers [Children's organization], and there were  both Party members and non-Party people there as well. All of them were  shouting, "There's no room for Christians here!" and "When we finish with the  Armenians, we'll go after the Russians!" And some even cried Out, "Death to  the Armenians!" Absurd rumors had been circulating about town. I became  frightened. I came home, breathless, and told about everything I had seen  downtown. My family couldn't believe it. My father-in-law Sogomon Markovich  Melkumian, wasn't home, he was at an Azerbaijani wedding. By eight o'clock he  returned and had barely finished parking the car when his rear window was  smashed with a rock. He got out of the car but there was no one there. Well I  was telling him everything, too, and he said, "What, is there no longer any government?" That same day Igor said, "Papa, something terrible is happening  in the city." And he said, "We'll stay at home, no one will drive us from our  own home."  The day passed. On February 28, that was Sunday, we didn't go out. We called  our relatives and asked them all kinds of questions, and they all said the  same thing. Sometime around evening they started smashing the car of an  Armenian from the neighboring building. Ira, my brother-in-law's wife, and I  called the police: they're wrecking a car, help. We called and called, and  nonetheless they didn't come and they didn't do anything.  On February 29, on Monday, even though there were troops in the city, we were  afraid to go to work. I called the school: I had the keys to the classroom. I  told the senior teacher that he should send someone for the keys, I wouldn't  be coming in. He agreed, and even said, "Fine, don't come in, we understand  what's going on in town, don't come in."  Before that, on the 28th, the Ambartsumian family came over. They came to my  father-in-law and said, "Uncle Sergey, they broke our windows, bad things are  happening in town." Uncle Misha Ambartsumian even said, "With my own eyes I  saw them chasing naked girls through the streets. I don't know," he said, "we  should leave town." Well on the 29th we were already trying to decide where we  should go, thinking we'd go to our dacha. We got a couple of bags together,  clothes, food, the bare essentials. And then somewhere around 4:45 the  building manager came by and said, "Uncle Sergey, the situation in town is  bad, don't go out." My father even opened up to him and said, "Maybe we'll  drive to the dacha, it'll be safer there." "No," he said, "it'll be worse  there, you'll be safer at home." He said don't be afraid, if something happens  I'll send people to save you.  After he left about 15 minutes passed and about 200 people burst into our  courtyard. All of us were at home at the time: Igor and I and our two  children, Ira and Edik and their daughter, my sister-in-law Ira, and my  mother-and father-in-law. And the Ambartsumian family, there were three of  them, Uncle Misha, Zhasmen, and their daughter Marina. Now when they started breaking down the door I remember Edik and Igor told us, "Go in that room and close the door. Close the door and calm the children so they won't hear that there's anyone home." The children started crying. Suddenly Ira, my  brother-in-law's wife, suggested, "Let's run out onto the balcony." We -- the two daughters-in-law and the children, and Zhasmen and Marina -- raced out onto the balcony. My sister-in-law and my mother-in-law ran in and said,  "Quick, over to the other balcony, or they'll kill you all." We lived on the second floor. We needed to cross over from our balcony to our neighbor's. At first we couldn't manage it. The balcony looked onto the street. At that time people were coming home from work, and many just stood there, watching. I  pleaded and begged: "Please, call someone, have someone come!" I even started  shouting. "I'll throw down the children, I'll throw them down, you catch them  and take them somewhere, so at least the children will survive." Either they  were afraid or . . . I don't know what. They looked as though they were  watching a movie. Some of them started throwing stones at us. I'll say it  again, these weren't the bandits, these were people from the other part of the  building and from our entryway, they were just regular people, passersby. A  bus even stopped. I remember a man's voice saying the Armenians were climbing over to the other balcony. Ira, my sister-in-law, helped us get the children  over there. I was pregnant, about seven months pregnant. No, it wasn't yet  seven, it was six and a half. I climbed over too. I think Zhasmen went first;  you know, I just don't remember it all that well. Zhasmen went first, I think,  and Edik's wife Ira and I had the children, and they were all screaming and  crying. My Kristina said, "Mamma, don't throw us over the balcony, we're  afraid!" Lilia was crying, and Kristina and Seryozha were crying too. Kristina  didn't even want to climb over. She shouted, "I'm staying with Grandmother, I'm staying with Grandma!" She loved her grandma, more than she loved me. And  my mother-in-law shouted, "Oh no, Kristina's still there, she's still there,  save Kristina, too!" Ira helped us climb over, with Kristina coming last. Ira  helped us and went back inside.  We started pounding on the neighbor's balcony door. I pounded with my fist,  Sevil, open the door, open it, please!" She didn't open it. "No, go away, go  anywhere, go, I'm not opening the door." She was our neighbor, we were  friends, we never refused her anything, ever! And apparently she thought we  were going to break the windows, and she opened the door. She opened it and  said, "Karina, Karina, go away, go anywhere, just don't stay here, they'll  kill us, too, because of you." I begged, "Please, at least take the children,  we'll leave, we'll go back." "No," she said, "you have to leave." Her sons ran  in, one had a knife. Sevil's brother, he's around 18, shouted at us: "Get out  of here, leave, I'll kill you with this knife!" I became terrified, I took the  children and went out in the entryway and went down a few stairs. I went down  and heard a loudspeaker. It was in the courtyard "The Armenians must be  killed, they've taken all the best places, all the best apartments!" One of  them said, "Let the Armenian blood flow, none of them should survive!" When I  heard that I went upstairs and started knocking on doors. No one opened their  door for me! Not on the third floor, or the fourth. I couldn't see Zhasmen any  longer. Ira came upstairs later. I even thought that they had let her stay,  that they would save her.  My head was spinning. They were killing my family, and here I was in the next  entryway with two children. Seryozha was four, and Kristina was five and a  half. They were crying, "Mamma, we're scared!" They were so frightened that I  didn't even know how to calm them, should I try to calm them or myself? It was  awful. But on the third floor a man did open his door. I asked, "Open up, let  me inside!" He opened the door slightly and said, "No!" "No" and that was it!  He said it so sternly: "No!" I went up to the fifth floor. I pounded my fists  on the door with all my might. He opened up, the man of the house, and stood  there, looking at me. I was ready to get down on my knees. I almost did get  down on my knees. "Please, I beg of you, at least take the children." He  wasn't an Azerbaijani, he was a Lezgin. I don't even know how, but he let me  inside. And when I went in, Zhasmen was already there. Two minutes hadn't  passed when Ira and Lilia came up the stairs. Lilia was crying. He didn't want  to open the door. And again I started pleading, "Please, open the door, it's  our Ira and Lilia! Open the door!" And he said, "No, I'm afraid." I said again  and again, "Please, open the door, please!" He looked at me. He looked at me  for a long time and then opened the door after all. Ira came in with Lilia. We  threw ourselves into each other's arms, crying. Then the man locked us into  the bathroom. We sat there for a long time. Through the door he told us, "Calm  the children, and calm yourselves down, too."  Calm down? This man was hiding us, but what of our family? When I was still in  our apartment I had sensed that none of us would come out of this alive. I  said, "Igor, Edik, let's say farewell." And Edik turned around and looked at  me as if to say, is that some kind of joke? All the same I thought they would  kill all of us. Igor looked at me, too . . . But it was already too late! They  started pounding on the door, Igor was standing next to the door. Before that  he had told us, "Go lock yourselves in that room and sit tight." He thought we  were in the room. But before we went out onto the balcony we went to them:  "Edik, Igor, let's say farewell." Igor didn't think we could climb over to the  other balcony. And we did get over there, and I myself can't believe we were  able to save ourselves.  Igor put on a helmet, and Edik had his coat on, and he put on a fur hat. All  the men--Igor, Edik, their father, and Misha Ambartsumian--they all stood next  to the door. They thought they would pound on it a while and leave. But from  the other side of the door they ordered in Azerbaijani: "Open the door!" We  were all silent, waiting. Someone outside the door said, "They're home, they're in there, break down the door!" And I remember my father-in-law  whispering, "They're going to break it down now, it's coming down now . . . "  He had something in his hands, I think it was a knife: if they got in, we were  going to defend ourselves. In the hall near the door there were two metal  chair legs. From outside the door they said, "We're counting to five, open  up!" But we were all quiet, we didn't answer them. We made like no one was  home. We figured they'd leave, they'd get tired and leave. My father-in-law  had said, "It's not possible they'd come into my home. How can that be?  Everyone knows us, all of Sumgait knows our family, we are on good terms with  everyone." And indeed a day did not pass that there wasn't an Azerbaijani  guest at our table. We had a nice dacha, everyone would get together there  often, Azerbaijanis liked being with us there too. But now we had to save  ourselves, we had to flee from our own home. Ira, I remember, said, "I'm not  leaving here, my brothers and my parents are here, I'm going to fight  alongside them." That's just what she said. She picked up a knife and said,  "If they open the door and come into the apartment then I'm going to fight  alongside my family, I'm not going anywhere."  We were at Sevil's when they broke into our apartment. We heard fighting and  shouting. The noise was terrible. And when we hid upstairs on the fifth floor  at the Lezgin's apartment, you could hear everything up there, too. Even Ira's  voice. I remember her calling her mother several times. She called her for a  long time . . . I started pounding on the door in the bathroom: "Open the  door, what are they doing to Ira, who's shouting, that's Ira shouting, that's  her voice!" But the Lezgin said, "It's nothing, calm down, no, it's not in  your apartment." He was lying to me so I'd calm down. Two hours went by and  the Lezgin opened the door and said, "Karina, Igor got away, calm down. He ran  away." He saw Igor break away and run off with his own eyes. They killed him  outside, next to the building.  While we were in the bathroom I experienced every possible human terror. The  way Ira shouted! She shouted, "Save me, Mamma, save me! . . . Mamma, Mamma!"  She repeated it several times. There was a wild din. There were very many  people there, all of them shouting, all of them bellowing, howling,  whistling--you just can't imagine what was going on, what the roar was like.  Apparently, after they had killed Ira those murderers came into the entryway  where we were hiding and came upstairs, all the way up to the fifth floor. I  don't know if they were just looking for any Armenians or for us in particular, but I think they were looking for us because when we had climbed  over the balconies someone on the street was saying that the daughters-in-law  were climbing over the balconies. And after we heard Ira we heard them coming  up the stairs in the entryway and hammering on the doors. I thought those were  our last moments, and started saying good-bye to my children, kissing them.  They were sleeping. I woke them up: "Kristina! Seryozha, wake up!" And I tell  Ira: "Ira, if something happens, we'll throw ourselves off the balcony." We  were on the fifth floor. Apparently our Lezgin neighbor had opened the door  too, because later he said, "I opened the door and told them there were no  Armenians inside." And after they all left our neighbor went out on the  balcony himself to see: they were gone.  We weren't friends with those Lezgin neighbors, we only knew each other from  the building. But the people we were friends with wouldn't even consider  hiding us.  The Lezgin let us out of the bathroom. They had a candle burning. He said,  "Karina, there're no lights on in our block." The whole block was dark, the  whole block! It's a huge block, too. The Lezgin said, "I'm afraid to keep you until morning, I'm afraid of the neighbors, they might kill me for saving you." I said, "What are you saying, we'll leave now. But we can't just leave with the children in the middle of the night. Give us time to find somewhere else to hide." He said, "Well OK, go look." I asked Ira, "Ira, do you want to go?" Ira said, "No, I'll stay with the children, Karina." I said, "Fine, then I'll go." Zhasmen and I went downstairs together. It was very dark. No one  was in the courtyard. It was dark, pitch black. l was afraid to go out at  after seven, Igor always met me after work and accompanied me home, I never  went out alone. And now here I was out in the middle of the night and after a slaughter like that, too. It was probably after eleven. Later I called the  boarding school and my director answered. He said, "Karina, where are you?" I didn't know, I was calling from a public phone outside and didn't know where I  was. I got confused and hung up the receiver. From him I only found out what  time it was, I asked him, "What time is it?" He said 11:20, I think, but I  don't really remember. So anyway Zhasmen and I went out into the courtyard. I  look and see what appears to be a person not far from our apartment. And there was the smell of something burnt. I became horrified. I looked at the corpse  for a long time. It was either Ira or Edik. I only saw one of them, Zhasmen  grabbed my hand and squeezed it: "Hurry up, let's go . . . Hurry up, come on,  what are you turning around for?" I turned around and saw a large truck, it  must have belonged to the bandits, because they came to kill us in a truck  like that. We lived in the third entryway, and that truck was next to the  fourth. We walked quickly, holding hands. I thought, if I go to the police  then they'll put me away. I couldn't count on them. Before I reached the  police station I saw a military vehicle. We went over and I said, "Soldier, in  Block 41, I don't know if they've killed people or injured them--we need to  save them!" And he said, "Go to the police station and tell them everything."  I said, "I'm afraid to go there, I'm afraid of them." He said, "Don't be  afraid."  We went to the police and they wrote down the address, and the military  vehicle went to our building. I didn't go with them, they left me at the  police station. I gave the addresses of my mother and my brothers so that  they'd rescue them, too. I didn't know where they were or what had happened to them.  After a while they brought my children and Ira and Lilia. First they took us  to the KGB, that was at two or three in the morning. Then around five they  took us to the City Party Committee, and there were very many people there,  very many. I was pregnant and was wearing nothing but a dress. Seryozha was  only wearing a shirt, and Kristina had a little dress on. No coat, no boots,  nothing! And we sat there for three whole days in the City Party Committee.  The Lezgin had told me that Igor escaped. And I thought that he was probably  alive. But then after two and a half days, they took us, the Armenians of  Sumgait, to Nasosny. On March 6 some people from the Central Committee came  and told us, "Karina, Ira, we need you, come with us to the City Party  Committee." My Mamma had come to Nasosny, and she had been looking for me for  six days. Mama, my brothers, and my uncle. We went to the City Party Committee  and waited there in the courtyard. I was wearing nothing but a dress, and Ira  had only a dress on as well. There was a strong wind on March 6. An hour went  by. And then one of the functionaries told us, "Karina, Ira, gather your  courage. Would you like to go to the burial?" I said, "What, did they really  kill all of them?!" He said, "Let's look." He had a long list, and he started  reading them off: Igor Melkumian, my husband, Eduard Melkumian, my brother-in- law, Irina Melkumian, my sister-in-law, Sogomon Melkumian, my father-in-law, and Raisa Melkumian, my mother-in-law. He read off all their names and said,  "Get in the car, let's go to the burial."  We buried our family. I couldn't believe it at the time, I couldn't conceive of it or imagine it . . . And even now I think how shall I explain it to my  children when they're older?  My children were very attached to their father and their grandfather and grandmother. Kristina didn't love me the way she loved her grandfather and grandmother, they spoiled her. Kristina would always announce, "My grandma is  better than anyone!" Now, even though she is getting used to my mother, it's  difficult for her, and once she told her: "You're a bad grandmother."  I don't know why, I asked her, "Kristina, where's Papa?" and she said, "They  killed him." She knows, she understands it all. And recently I scolded Seryozha severely for something, and he started shouting at me, "When Papa  comes I'm going to tell him everything!"  July 26, 1988 Nairi Boarding House Near the Village of Arzakan Hrazdan District Armenian SSR 			- - - reference - - -  [1] _The Sumgait Tragedy; Pogroms against Armenians in Soviet Azerbaijan,     Volume I, Eyewitness Accounts_, edited by Samuel Shahmuradian, forward by     Yelena Bonner, 1990, published by Aristide D. Caratzas, NY, page 318-324