Aurora's Sunrise (2022) - full transcript

And what's this poster about?

This... This is... coming out of

the desert, looking for water.

This is Anna Q. Nilsson. No,

wait a minute now. I can't see this way.

Yeah, that's Irving Cummings,

who took the sweetheart Andranik part.

And that's me, Aurora.

I became a Hollywood star,

when I was just 17.

But I wasn't an actress.

I was not acting.

I was...

reliving.

Well done! Keep going!

Try to stay on the surface!

How am I doing?

Great! You're swimming way better now.

Yay! I can swim!

Arusyak! Wait!

Come on! Keep up with me.

Where were you? You're late!

Go on. Get dressed!

Arshaluys! Arusyak!

Coming!

We were eight brothers and sisters.

Hovnan was the youngest.

Then came Sara,

Arusyak and Martiros.

Look this way!

I was 14. Poghos and Lusineh

were just a little older than me.

Smile!

One, two, three!

My eldest brother was Vahan, but he had been

living in America for the past ten years.

When your father sings,

his heart is at peace.

Blessed be your voice, my brother!

My father produced silk. He found

the secret of how to color the cocoons.

Before that, they were only white.

I can never forget those...

beautiful cocoons of green, blue,

gold, and purple...

Look, Father! It worked!

When you try, anything can work.

Look! We got the color of the sun!

Of course, my girl. Of course.

We were happy children.

Our lives were full of color.

Our family loved spending time together.

Most of all we adored the plays

we performed in our yard.

Our favorite was "The Three Goats."

Even Mom took part.

- Good evening, Kirakos.

- Good evening.

Come in.

Late one evening, our Kurdish shepherd

came to our house with a warning.

The war is getting closer. I hear

it's becoming dangerous for Armenians now.

He overheard that Armenians

were being rounded up in Constantinople.

He felt certain that the same thing

would happen to the Armenians here,

and urged our family

to hide in the mountains.

I will not run.

My father refused.

He said, "If I run, I'd be a coward."

"If I must die, I'll die in my own home."

He worried that fleeing would justify

the Turks punishing the other Armenians.

And what would he say when people asked,

"Where were you when it happened"?

So he said, "I'm staying right here."

Move! Quickly!

A few days later, the soldiers came

for my father and brother.

The Great War started months earlier.

Turkey allied itself with Germany.

They lied to us. All the Armenian men

were being drafted into the army to fight.

My father, my brother, all the other men...

they never returned.

Get out of the house. Now!

The women couldn't do anything.

They entered our homes

and took everything they laid eyes on.

They even grabbed all the knives and forks,

so the women had nothing to fight back with.

Gendarmes forced all the women

and children out of town,

to a safe place.

That's what they told us.

We were forced on a march.

We had no idea where to.

Those who couldn't go on

were left on the roadside to die of thirst.

On the road, we encountered more and

more Armenians dragged from their homes.

We realized that the same horrors

were happening everywhere.

It went on and on.

We marched for weeks.

Finally, worn out and thirsty,

we reached the Euphrates.

Martiros, stop! Don't go there!

When we reached the river,

it was full of corpses:

hands, even whole bodies, floating slowly,

up and down with the current.

As we crossed, soldiers tore children

from their mothers' arms.

The river took them all:

Sara, Hovnan, Martiros, and Arusyak.

Every evening, the soldiers got drunk

and laid their hands on the girls.

We could only pray we wouldn't be next.

One evening, they took my sister Lusineh.

It was only us now... my mother and me.

In just two months,

we lost our entire family.

- They're coming!

- Quick! Hide the girls!

Our caravan was attacked

by Kurdish bandits.

We knew they would take girls to sell,

so my mother tried to make me look ugly.

But the mud didn't fool them.

They had more kidnapped girls

in their camp.

We were all for sale.

I wasn't there long before a buyer came.

- Put the girls in a row.

- Come this way.

She's good, right?

He decided to pick me.

I don't know why he trusted me

to ride that horse.

Maybe he thought I would just obey,

that I was already broken.

But I wasn't.

I was free at last,

but my freedom meant nothing,

if my mother was still in captivity.

I had to find her.

Arshaluys? Is that you?

Don't stop! Keep moving!

My aunts...

I didn't even realize

my aunts had found me.

I just went with them,

again joining the road to exile.

There were many, many Armenians from different,

different directions that they were moved there.

How many?

Over thousands and thousands.

I could say maybe 5,000,

all who were brought different distances,

from their own states, where they were living.

And before we reached there, and the sand,

all the sand, were all the dead bodies.

They had turned black, like charcoal.

Terrible, hot, burning, just like

a scorching red color...

The soldiers would

change from time to time.

Two of the new gendarmes

recognized my aunts.

Hold on!

Come here!

Get off the path!

Move!

Wait here!

They said, "We'll return you to Chmshgadzak.

We'll free you and assure your safety."

But only if we paid them

200 English gold coins.

"Hand them over and we'll free you."

just like that.

We know you're rich.

You must have money hidden somewhere.

We don't have any! We have nothing left.

We gave away everything!

I have two liras. Take it!

Finish them off!

Wait!

We can sell this one.

It was like God himself

had strings attached to Suren.

Jumping and twisting,

he dodged their bullets.

He begged them in Turkish:

"Please! Please don't shoot me!

I'll convert, I'll follow Muhammad!"

Those words still echo in my ears...

I'll follow Islam! I'll serve Allah!

How far can you run, dog?!

My two-year-old cousin clung

to his mother's body.

I grabbed him to shield

him from the bullets.

"Please," I said,

"Don't kill this small child.

"Wherever you take me, whatever

you do to me, I'll take him with me."

They didn't kill me. They could sell me.

But at least I was able to save Hrant.

I didn't know how long I could hold him,

but as long as he was alive, I felt strong.

Hrant had dirtied his clothes,

so I went to wash them in a nearby river.

I was beating them against a rock

to remove the dirt, when I heard a noise.

"What is this?" I said.

Anyway, it's very funny.

My aunt had sewn two gold liras

in the hem of his clothes.

Along the way, the soldiers stopped

at a military camp for the night.

Some German soldiers were there too.

They had been sent to

help train the Ottoman Army.

Here! Take that!

How about that?

Here! Come on!

What now?

Answer that!

Take this!

I'm done!

You there! Girl, come here!

I'm talking to you!

Stand up and get over here!

You'd better be quick about it! Fast!

Move over. Free up some space.

Sit down.

Here.

Drink this.

It's whiskey.

Drink!

There was this one soldier

with a shred of compassion left.

I offered him the two liras I had found,

and asked him to help us.

He said that if we fled now,

he wouldn't raise the alarm.

He'd tell them he fell asleep,

giving us a full night's head start.

We were free at last. But what now?

We had no food or water.

Hrant was getting weaker by the day

and wouldn't stop crying.

I didn't know what would happen, but my

concern for Hrant was stronger than my fear.

We were lucky that the Kurdish couple

that took us in were kind, warm people.

Open wide! Eat!

They cared for us as if

we were their own children.

For the first time, after 6 months of horrors,

it almost felt like I had a home again.

We stayed there in

safety for several months.

Run home, Hrant.

Hurry! Hurry! You'll get drenched!

Wheee! We're flying!

The Russians took Erzurum.

That spring, a Turkish soldier

passed by our cottage.

I learned from him that during the winter,

the Russian Army

and Armenian resistance fighters

had liberated Erzurum.

The Ottoman Army had been destroyed.

Its soldiers were taken prisoner.

He was lucky to escape.

Our army has fallen apart...

I couldn't stay any longer.

I had to join the free Armenians.

But it was too dangerous

to take Hrant with me.

The old woman was always saying,

"He's such a sweet child! So adorable!"

"If only he was mine! We never

had children... He could be my child."

She begged me to leave Hrant with her.

It was a tough decision to make...

but it was best for him.

With them, he would be safe.

Wait, sis!

So I headed for Erzurum.

In the evening I reached a monastery.

Other refugees had

already found shelter there,

so I spent the night there.

But that night, bandits showed up.

The monks helped us hide,

but the bandits tore the monastery apart

until they found us.

They spared only the young girls,

keeping them for their

own gain and pleasure.

I'll never forget it. They tied up my hair,

and then they killed.

"Please," I said, "save them!"

"No, no! Sooner or later,

all of you are going to die.

"There will be not one single Armenian

left to live!

"We're going to kill all you dogs,

all you "gavurs" (infidels)!"

And all these kinds of words

they were calling and yelling,

and whipping me, and using this horse-whip.

It was so painful and all.

And that's the way

they wanted to finish us.

They took us girls to the city of Mush,

to sell us.

Among the buyers was a wealthy governor

from my home province.

He recognized me and looked pleased.

He was getting a good deal...

a girl from an honorable family.

My child will be born this month.

May Allah bless you with a boy.

- It hurts!

- Stay strong! Breathe!

- It's so close!

- It's coming! Push again!

Push! Push!

- It's a boy!

- It's a boy!

Praise Allah!

The harem was close to my hometown.

I knew the roads, so I began

walking back to Chmshkadzag.

I travelled at night and

slept during the day.

Sometimes I hid in the caves.

I didn't care about wolves or lions.

Better they eat me than I fall back

into the hands of the Turks.

I escaped, didn't I?

It had been over a year

since they deported my family.

The very thought that

every Armenian in our region

had been murdered

or exiled made me shiver.

It was dangerous to enter town,

but I needed to get to our house.

I knew my father had hidden a gun there.

No one would ever take me alive again.

It was in a nest. I remembered that we kept

a pistol with ammunition in a bird's nest.

I put my hand inside

and felt something icy and solid.

How childish! I thought it was a snake

that got into the nest.

Then I thought "I don't care."

If it bit me I'd die and that would be it.

I reached in even further.

The ammo was wrapped up inside,

and the pistol was in front of it.

That's why it felt like ice.

I pulled it out and was so happy!

I can't even explain it!

I climbed down and

immediately slipped it under my dress,

concealing it in my clothes,

so that no one would notice it.

Those photographs were all

that was left of my family.

But, no! My brother Vahan

was still alive in America!

I missed him so much.

Did he even know what had happened to us?

Ayi, calm down!

Don't run! He'll attack.

I froze...

But then I recognized the voice.

Can I help you?

It was him, the old shepherd,

who tried to save my family!

Arshaluys!

I was so relieved to see him.

He had incredible news for me too.

My uncle Ghazar was alive.

He had hidden in the mountains

with a small group of Armenian refugees.

The Kurds living in the Dersim mountains

were God-fearing people.

They didn't kill Armenians, but worked them

like slaves in exchange for letting them stay.

When I saw my uncle, he wasn't well.

He looked exhausted.

His face had turned yellow.

He had a sickness called malaria.

It took a long time for

my uncle to recover.

I looked after him and worked in the

fields, so the Kurds would let us stay.

My uncle told me he was on a business trip,

when the massacres began.

When he returned home, his family was gone.

The Kurds helped him hide, but his sickness

and the lack of a gun prevented him

from joining the Armenian resistance

and finding his family.

My uncle was an American citizen.

He was a very successful businessman.

He returned to the homeland

in 1913 to start a family.

He always told me stories of how miraculous

and big America was... how safe it was.

My only remaining brother was there.

I wished more than anything to get to him.

It's father's.

Just a fews days later, we moved on

toward Erzurum, to freedom.

In the forest, we met the Armenian

freedom fighters, the "Fedayi."

They were Armenian survivors, just like us.

They had taken up arms

and united to defend our people.

I was so proud to see them.

Finally, I saw resistance.

We have weapons but not enough fighters.

Go with the others to Erzurum.

I should stay here.

Arshaluys, you'll be safe there.

Best of luck, my girl.

Be safe, Uncle.

Let's move!

Don't wait around!

We made our way to the Erzurum region,

which was freed a year earlier

by the Russian Caucasus Front

and Armenian volunteer units.

Now, beside the Russian

and Armenian soldiers,

there were also missionaries,

helping refugees and survivors.

I settled in the town of Yerzinka,

where I volunteered to help a professor,

who dedicated himself to caring for

orphans and women freed from slavery.

Can you tell me your Armenian names?

Shoghakat.

Professor Loulajian told me that these

girls were raped or forced to marry Turks.

I had to help them become Armenian again.

They needed to remember their Armenian names.

If they couldn't, I gave them new ones.

Then he gave me a pencil and paper,

and told me to write down their names,

where were they from,

what happened to them, their stories.

For over two years, these girls were all

enslaved by Turkish or Kurdish men.

Only with time would their wounds

slowly begin to heal.

- Good morning, Arshaluys.

- Good morning, Professor.

- I have a letter for you.

- Thank you.

I finally received news from my uncle.

He wrote to me that he had arranged

my journey to New York.

American missionaries would

provide me with travel documents.

In Tiflis (Tbilisi), Armenian military

leaders would help me leave for America.

And then, Commander Andranik...

- Wait! You met Commander Andranik?

- Yes.

- In Tiflis?

- Yes.

Commander Andranik himself gave orders

to send me to America,

so I could share my story and

tell the world what happened to us.

Every Armenian knew of Commander Andranik.

He was a legend! He led our

national liberation movement.

The Turks were terrified of him.

I felt so honored to meet him.

Commander Andranik gave orders

to send me to Petrograd (St. Petersburg),

so I could set sail for America.

He gave me a special mission:

To tell the world

what was happening to our people.

When we arrived in Petrograd,

the city was in the midst of a revolution.

The war was against the Czar.

The Bolsheviks wanted

to overthrow the Russian Empire.

As if I hadn't seen enough already,

now this too?

Finally, a man arrived, saying

that I was to be taken to Norway,

and there, I would board

another ship to America.

Finally, I was leaving for America,

a land where I'd be safe,

and where I'd find my brother Vahan.

My heart raced,

when I saw the Statue of Liberty.

Stepping onto Ellis Island meant freedom

for me and all the other refugees:

Assyrians, Greeks, and Armenians.

Next!

Mardigian, Arshaluys.

Nationality: Armenian.

Age: 16.

Accompanying relatives: None.

Approved! Next!

I was only 16, so a local Armenian couple

was found to look after me.

Welcome, my girl.

Class, repeat after me: "B, Bed."

Bed.

Bed.

Bed.

"B, Ball."

Ball.

Excellent! Write it down!

Now, "Bat."

Bat.

The girls worked beautifully

on sewing machines, electric ones,

I was so interested.

I like working quickly, you know.

Action!

I wanted to learn how to

operate a sewing machine!

My wish came true, but with no experience

they trained me on a mechanical one first.

It was on the last day, Saturday,

that we went to collect our wages.

I said "Mr. Stone, I'm gonna strike."

"Either you give me more money,

or I'm gonna strike!"

He chuckled and asked,

"How are you going to do the strike?"

"Well, I'd make a placard and march

back and forth in front of the factory."

You remember, I said yesterday, my brother?

That I cannot find? When I came,

the first thing in my mind

is that's the only one

who was left in my family, alive,

if I find him.

So then, in some people's house,

Armenian people,

they called up and two men, the "Sun"

and "Tribune," two men, came together.

From the newspaper?

Yeah, from the newspapers,

"Sun" and "Tribune," that is.

They were working for them, see?

And then, when I came, they knew

how to make an advertisement,

how to find my brother,

in American newspapers.

Fellow New York Armenians

organized a gathering in their home.

They invited journalists, who could write

about my search for my brother.

I showed everyone my brother's picture,

and said my biggest dream was to find him.

After writing down my story,

the reporters asked:

Which hurt me more?

Witnessing the murder of my family,

or seeing the slaughter of my nation?

"Well," I said, "that's a hard question.

"The people are my nation." I said in Armenian.

I talked, and then the man is translating, see?

Then I said, "My people is my nation. If

my nation is gone, no more Armenians live."

"My people hurt just

as much as my parents."

"My parents hurt me

just as much as my people."

The next day the articles were published.

If only Vahan, or someone

who knew him, would see them.

Miss Arshaluys, you cannot possibly imagine

how important your story is!

Henry Gates was a famous reporter.

He wanted to help Near East Relief,

the organization that brought me here.

They wanted to raise $30 million in donations

for Christian refugees from the Ottoman Empire,

and he was convinced that

publishing my story would awaken

the generosity of every American,

who read it.

My spine shivered just thinking of telling

about the atrocities I wanted to forget.

But still, I agreed.

I promised Commander Andranik that

I would tell the world what happened to us.

Even more importantly, I wanted

to help all the other orphans like me.

Also, the hope of finding my brother grew.

Gates and his wife rented a room

at the Latham Hotel.

We worked here every day to write my story.

I was still under 18,

and I already had guardians,

But Gates said taking legal custody of me

would be better for my story's success.

They wanted to change my name

to something foreign.

I said, "No, I don't want a foreign name.

You want to take my story"

"and stamp a foreign name on my forehead.

I am an Armenian!"

"If you don't use my Armenian name,

I don't have a story to give you!"

He said my name was too hard for Americans.

In the end we compromised.

My surname would stay Armenian,

but with an extra syllable added

to make it easier to pronounce.

My first name, Arshaluys,

means "morning light" in English,

so we translated it into "Aurora".

Then we set to work.

I spent hours telling my story in Armenian.

It was then translated into English.

The story was published in weekly

installments in the newspapers.

I was surprised by all the interest.

It was a sensation.

Donations to Near East Relief flooded in.

When the last part of

my story was published,

I received an invitation.

It was from Hollywood.

They wanted to turn my story into a film.

The Gates were in California already.

I travelled by train to join them there.

I was brought to Grand Central station.

Hundreds of thousands filled the streets.

The news just broke that the war was over.

There was no room to slip a needle even!

Everyone was covered in confetti.

War stopped! Freedom now!

They arranged a private train,

a parlor car, to bring me to California.

I shared the parlor car with

a group of actors and actresses.

I'd never seen such glamorous women before.

When we arrived, reporters surrounded

my carriage left and right.

They took my photo. The lights on their

cameras blinded me as I got out of the train.

"For the announcement," they said.

After that, we were taken to the

Alexandria Hotel.

The Gateses took me to a banquet at the

hotel to celebrate the start of filming.

There were so many people,

and they all wanted to meet me.

I met famous businessmen, movie stars... It

felt strange to be the center of attention.

Then I was introduced to William Selig,

Hollywood's first ever studio producer.

He told me he was going

to make me "a real star,"

and that I was a "lucky girl."

Have a drink, my darling.

This is whiskey.

Drink this!

The past caught up with me...

the memories...

It was all too much.

What was I doing here?

Then, out of nowhere,

I thought I saw a familiar face.

I asked, "What happened to your hands?"

To Charlie Chaplin!

"You had big hands. Your feet

were big, and your hands were big."

"You are small now!

What happened to you?"

Everyone around us laughed.

Meeting Charlie Chaplin

brightened up everything!

I put my worries aside

and went to Mr. Selig's studio.

My Hollywood career had begun.

They took me to a place,

where lots of clothes were stored.

They chose a costume for me.

"No" I said, "I don't want that.

"We didn't use that kind of thing."

They asked: "What would you wear then?"

I explained what it looked like,

with long sleeves,

full of beautiful embroidery.

They made the clothes

just as I described them.

In these clothes, I became Arshaluys again.

Oh, my! Cut!

The shoot was a nightmare.

Painful memories filled me with terror.

But I had a mission,

so I forced myself to carry on...

until the day I fell.

I broke my ankle. The pain was agonizing.

I could barely walk.

Mr. Gates told me to step hard on my ankle,

so it would "heal faster."

We kept filming.

And, what, pray-tell is happening here?

Who's this?

I can't see. Ah, Mrs. Harriman is here.

A woman I didn't know arrived.

It was Mrs. Harriman.

I later learned that she was the

publicity director of Near East Relief,

which was financing the film.

I'll be damned, if she delays my picture.

Mrs. Harriman put the entire production

on hold and looked after me personally.

She was one of the kindest people

I ever met. We became very close.

Two weeks later, though my ankle

had not fully healed, we restarted filming.

The premiere was scheduled to coincide with

a big charity event for Armenian orphans.

I had to make sure that the film

would be ready on time.

And... Action!

One day, Henry Morgenthau arrived on set.

He had been the U.S. Ambassador

to the Ottoman Empire,

and the first man to inform the American

people about the massacring of the Armenians.

He even resigned in protest

over what was happening to us.

Morgenthau had come

to play himself in the film!

Three, two, one... Action!

Much of what was depicted in the film

did not happen as shown.

The reality was far too grim

for American audiences.

The crucifixion scene...

they made it appear civilized in the film.

But I never told them

about any crucifixion.

In reality they sharpened sticks

into "kazıklar" (in Turkish),

and impaled each woman through her groin,

with the stakes inside them, heads down,

their bodies slumped over.

That's how the girls died.

A grand gala followed the premiere.

They announced the creation of the American

Committee for the Independence of Armenia.

This organization would support

President Wilson's plan

to establish an American

mandate over Armenia,

which would be freed from Turkish rule

and protected by U.S. forces.

My story was meant to symbolize

this plan's moral necessity.

The guests were all industrialists,

business leaders, and politicians.

Many were close to President Wilson,

such as oil tycoon John D. Rockefeller,

and philanthropist Cleveland H. Dodge.

I had a happy life in our village

with my parents and family.

I gasped, I could barely breathe.

I wanted to run off the stage,

but I forced myself to stay.

If all these important people

heard my story from my own lips,

the film's impact would be greater,

and then they'd surely support Armenia.

The film's campaign began that day.

What campaign was it?

A drive! Thirty million dollars

to help the Armenian refugees

that escaped here and there,

had no food, no shelter, nothing.

A promotional tour throughout

the United States was organized.

Cities big and small screened the film,

even in places with no movie theater!

Thousands of people bought tickets

just to see me in person.

The early screenings cost $10 a seat!

Many more made donations

or bought the book compiled

from my newspaper stories.

The money raised

for the orphans grew and grew.

One for the Washington Times.

Miss Mardiganian,

how long have you lived in exile?

Every day,

I answered hundreds of questions,

but I was happy to do it.

I knew I was helping my nation.

Most importantly, my travels gave me

the opportunity to search for my brother.

Hope gave me the strength

to keep moving forward.

The tour felt endless. I was growing

more and more exhausted.

But I had to continue.

Meanwhile, different empires were forming

opposing plans for what was left of my homeland.

Wilson was pushing

the American Mandate for Armenia,

Lenin wanted us in his

new socialist empire,

and under Mustafa Kemal [Ataturk],

Turkish soldiers were taking up arms again,

to build a new Turkish state

on the lands of Armenian suffering.

I had been on tour for a whole year.

My memories became entangled with reality.

Everyday I relived how they killed my

sister, how I found my mother's body,

how they choked children to death, slaughtered

my relatives, annihilated my people.

And still,

there was no news from my brother.

The smell of corpses on the death marches

was constantly in my nose.

Day and night,

the horror stayed with me.

Day after day, I would tell

foreign women how they raped me.

I lived with everything

I wanted to forget forever.

My only light was my brother Vahan,

the only living family I had left.

I never found him.

Ladies and gentlemen,

please welcome Aurora Mardiganian!

Gates was furious.

He said I ruined the performance,

and that I failed both his and my mission.

As my legal guardian,

he sent me to a convent.

Aurora, a letter arrived for you.

"My dearest niece Arshaluys. Forgive

your uncle for not writing for so long."

"Word of your film has made it even

to Beirut! I am so proud of you. my dear."

"I've been searching

for what's left of our family,"

"and with this letter,

I bring you unbelievable news."

"I found Arusyak in Aleppo! By God's grace, she

didn't drown in the Euphrates. She escaped!"

"I had her papers drawn up,

and am sending her to America soon."

"With love, and always missing you,

your Uncle Ghazar."

My Arusyak was alive!

Arusyak was coming to America!

I could no longer stay at that convent.

I left for New York to find Mrs. Harriman.

- Ah, Miss Aurora, hello!

- Good day.

Good day. Please come inside.

Thank you.

Is Mrs. Harriman at home?

No, but she will return in a few hours.

Please, please, come in.

Mrs. Harriman was

the only person I trusted.

Next to her, I could feel safe,

I could share all my happiness and fears.

I will never forget that article.

The Senate rejected

Wilson's plan for a mandate.

This meant America would not use its power

to create a new Armenian nation-state.

Meanwhile, Mustafa Kemal was building a new Turkey

by massacring his way across Armenian lands.

Once again, we lost any hope

of having a free homeland.

Aurora, my dear!

So happy to see you!

What's the matter?

What brings you here?

What's happened?

My sister is alive.

She is coming to America!

Arusyak did not drown!

That's wonderful!

But why are you so upset?

I escaped, I ran away from the convent!

I couldn't stay there anymore!

I don't understand, Aurora...

What convent? What are you talking about?

Mrs. Harriman and all of America thought that

I continued traveling to promote the film.

While I was at the convent, I was still

magically meeting audiences at screenings.

It turned out, Gates had hired

several girls to impersonate me.

The very people that said

I was family had used me.

I felt betrayed.

The next morning, Mrs. Harriman said

she wanted to show me something...

Arusyak! Wait!

Come on! Keep up with me, Arshaluys!

They should have punished these Turks right

after WWI, to bring to justice and punish them.

Otherwise, if they did punish, we

wouldn't have had the massacre of the Jews.

The Germans would never

have massacred the Jews.

They said, "Well, who cares? To the Armenians they

did it and got by, the barbarians, the Turks",

"so we can do the same thing

the Turks did." That's the answer.

Even now, I don't want to see the Turks

killed by guns or swords.

The Turks must be in a moral way brought

down to the chair... What do you call it?

The chair... that they're questioning

and giving the sentence to them.

That's the way, not by guns or by swords.

I don't believe in that.