My name is Durdane. I am a mother, wife, sister and survivor. This is my first blog for the Jewish Journal. I am thrilled to be able to regularly share my ideas, thoughts and commentary from a very different part of the world – my home Azerbaijan – a majority-Muslim country of the eastern Caucasus. I hope with this opportunity to share a unique and powerful voice and view of the world.
Each of us looks out into the world, through eyes shaped by the life we live and the life we have known, and never has our ability to experience such variety of content about our world been as great as it is today. But sadly, the much too common, daily reports from across the entire globe share news of tragedy, cruelty and death.
Even with volumes of news incoming each day, I can’t help but wonder about the tragic events that haven’t been reported, and might never reach the greater public eye. As intense as the tragedies in the United States, France, Israel and Turkey over these past few weeks have been, these are only a few examples of many events that have taken center stage in time where unfortunately, terror attacks have become commonplace.
It is so wrong that these acts of terror and violence are allowed to be seen as religiously inspired actions, because there is no such thing. As a Muslim I can say that my religion condemns such violence. In my country Muslims, Jews, Christians and many other religious and ethnic minorities live in harmony, we share common bonds; marriage, community and country. It is a great tragedy that more has not been said, to make clear to the world how only a few have twisted our faith to serve their own terrible agenda.
I state this with my own perspective and experience as a survivor; as someone who has personally endured invasion and massacre, attempted to escape, was captured, and held captive, and brutally tortured. The eyes I have to view the world, those of a mother, are undeniably affected by what I experienced as a survivor of the Khojaly Massacre of 1992, a little known event that did not make headlines around the world, and was not part of the 24 hour television news world we live in today. They are the eyes of a wife, so loved by her husband that he has helped his wife to love herself again, after many years in silence, suffering and shame. I have taken to address my trauma and to find a new meaning in continuing to live. Sadly, most victims of what are considered “Forgotten Conflicts”, like the tragedy I and so many have endured, are not as lucky.
I have had a lot of support in the process of recovery and healing. I live in a country that has spared no resource in addressing the needs of survivors and the nearly 1 million refugees that have yet to return home since the attacks and massacres against Azerbaijan by neighboring Armenia began in the early 1990’s. My homeland has a rich and varied history and identity, but the most constant and enduring quality has been our culture of togetherness, of tolerance, acceptance of differences, and acknowledgement of the past. Today, thankfully, I live very comfortably with my family in Baku, the capital city, and the many surgeries and therapies required for my recovery have been covered by the Azerbaijan government.
It took me many years to speak to anyone about what I felt and saw in the torture camp, let alone to share openly with people across the world, as I am privileged and proud to do today.
This was a significant turning point in the development of my role as an advocate for survivors, women, and for the recognition of lesser-known tragedies. I took this monumental step when I visited the United States last year, and spent a week immersed in the faith communities of Los Angeles, particularly the Jewish community. I came to give testimony of what happened to me in Khojaly, filmed by Jeff Handel of One Wish Project, to share my story with groups and to meet clergy of every faith, and community leaders that have committed time and passion to recognizing the Khojaly Massacre. It was the Jewish community of Los Angeles in particular that facilitated a great shift in my ability to give testimony, and to connect with survivors across time and tragedy. I created close bonds with several Rabbis and a group of young women, many of whom have family themselves that have experienced horrible things. Some are the grandchildren of Holocaust survivors. I also had the privilege to visit the Museum of Tolerance. I saw how much heart and hard work this community commits to remembering, and to surviving and living today in hope, and I felt very much at home. I no longer felt alone in my journey.
It has been a little over a year since I visited California, and my courage and conviction to share my own story, to talk about the most painful elements, is stronger than ever. The events and efforts toward the memorialization of Khojaly that have taken place in religious communities across Los Angeles speak to the abounding levels of kindness, human empathy and responsible leadership. As I hear world leaders talk about peace and reconciliation, I think that the only way to truly accomplish this is to do what I have been doing — telling my story — making sure that we never forget the human toll that comes with terror and acts of violence.
So from over 7,000 miles away in my home in Baku, I send blessings to all my friends, with whom I share a promise to continue remembering, sharing, hoping, and creating a safer and kinder world for everyone.
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