“Ian” and “Yan”
By Jirair Tutunjian
Some years ago, an Armenian acquaintance in Orange County put up for sale his reasonably flourishing business. The broker-salesman he had hired to find a potential buyer had advised him not to mention to buyers that he was Armenian. He explained that some buyers are wary of Arabs, Jews, and Armenians from Armenia. He told my acquaintance that he was referring to “yan” Armenians and not to “ians.”
During a recent visit to Los Angeles the topic of the presumed difference between Armenia Armenians and Diaspora Armenians popped up again.
I had parked my car on northern Brand St. in Glendale and had walked to Jon’s supermarket more than six long blocks. After wrapping up my shopping, I fetched for a cab to take me back to my car. After waiting in the sizzling sun for twenty minutes to catch the eye of a taxi driver, I gave up: Glendale taxis had vanished in the smog. In despair, I returned to the supermarket and asked the supervisor if she could call a cab. She said she was busy…she advised I ask another staffer. The second person said she was also busy. Both spoke Eastern Armenian.
In desperation, I stopped a middle-aged man near the store’s entrance and explained that for twenty minutes no cab had passed by the supermarket and that it was impossible for me to carry my two loaded shopping bags in the skull-numbing heat. I offered him $10 if he drove me to my car. He listened carefully and finally said, with a snicker, that northern Brand St. was too far. It wasn’t. He had an Eastern Armenian accent. Another shopper, who had been listening to my tale of sorrow, averted my eyes and hurried away before I bothered him.
I trudged several blocks and finally stopped at a Mexican take-out restaurant. I told the manager I would give him $3 if he called a cab. He said: “No problem.” He refused my $3. Five minutes later, a car stopped by the restaurant. The driver was the manager’s friend. When we arrived where my car was parked, his friend refused the $5 I offered. He said the manager was his friend.
A few days later, at a mini-restaurant run by a Western Armenian, I spoke with several Lebanese Armenian customers. I mentioned my less-than-pleasant experience with Eastern Armenians and the negative words I had heard about them.
The Lebanese Armenians exploded: Armenia Armenians are abrupt, rude, ignorant, unreliable, and greedy cheats, according to them.
Rather than question their views, I asked them why were Armenian Armenians so unpleasant.
One of them said: “They are basically crude and
I said Armenia Armenians of Los Angeles should be the happiest and friendliest residents in the Los Angeles basin. After all, they had left behind poverty and lack of opportunity, and had come to one of the most popular and affluent cities in the world where the sun shines almost year-round. In fact, a few years earlier, at the arrival lounge of the Los Angeles Airport, I had watched a heavily-tattooed Armenian welcome his mother to California with Doo arkayoutyo
One of the Lebanese Armenians claimed Armenia Armenians are too “untutored” to appreciate their luck. “They are ingrate.”
He added that a few weeks earlier, he had been at a small Glendale mall where most of the shops were Armenian-owned. He had seen a poster in the shop window which had said the store didn’t sell Turkish products.
My new acquaintance had walked into the store and had searched for the manager. He had decided an overweight bottle-blonde with plenty of makeup and jewelry was the manager. She spoke Eastern Armenian. He had asked her whether she could tell him where he could buy a similar poster.
“VOCH!!!!!” had been the manager’s loud reply. He said the tone of the ringing “voch” included anger, dismissal, and contempt. It was like a bark.
I remembered a travel article I had read many years earlier. Written by premier travel writer Jan Morris, it was about Istanbul. The article was titled “City of Yok.” Morris wrote that the favorite epithet of Istanbul was yok. He explained: “Yok appears to be a sort of general-purpose discouragement, to imply that (for instance) it can’t be done, she isn’t home, the shop’s shut, the train’s left, take it or leave it, you can’t come this way or there’s no good making a fuss about it, that’s the way it is.”
But Turks learned to mend their ways. Turkey is now a leading travel destination. Had Morris been alive, she would have written “Istanbul: City of Evet.”
