Farewell to Anahit Bayandur

It is hard for me to write these lines. Never and in no way could I imagine writing about my friend and colleague Anahit Bayandur in the past tense. Once I could not imagine that I would lose my sister. But it happened. Now I have lost my sister in spirit. The news of her death is sad and grave.

We made our acquaintance in hard times when the bloody war in Karabakh was at its height, villages burnt, people were captured and exchanged like goods.

I am grateful to the founders of the Helsinki Citizens" Assembly for the fact that they introduced us to each other. From the very outset when we shared news of the outbreak of war, we realized what a cruel game the world powers had started with our countries, what cynical technologies had been applied to manipulate both peoples" consciousness. We immediately felt trust in another, promised to bring the truth to wider public"s notice and do our best to help the innocent victims of the war.

Anahit was sincere and honest, bravely upheld her point of view, looked for compromises and always tried to provide her opponent with an opportunity to make a step forward. She was not imbued with stereotypes, but remained open to new ideas and mutual understanding. Our first joint action was to visit each other"s countries at the height of the war and call for a cessation of hostilities: Anahit - in Baku, I - in Yerevan.

I recall that in October 1992 (during fighting at the front) she arrived in Baku at my invitation and appeared before the Azerbaijani audience. She said in a calm voice "I have come to say you "Hullo"!" She then explained that the purpose of her visit was to prove that our peoples were not enemies, they could not be enemies, for we had too much in common, - and the audience listened to her: some respectfully, others enthusiastically, others looking to criticize. But her calm and unpretentious "Hullo" gave them no chance to cavil. This episode is one of my brightest memories of Anahit, her imperceptible, impregnable bravery.

At that time our calls were ignored, the war went on, the number of victims, prisoners of war and hostages grew. At stake was their fate, and it was our joint mission to ease their lot. Assisted by other people of good will from our organization, we succeeded in releasing 500 prisoners from both sides. The gratitude of these people and their relatives - that was the highest award for us. But quite unexpectedly the Swedish Riksdag announced that we were awarded the international Olof Palme Peace Prize for 1992. At first, Anahit and I did not want to accept the Prize, saying that no reward was due for discharging our duty. But we were told that the title of prize winner would make it easier for us to protect peace and people. Anahit never plumed herself on the title and continued to believe that we had still done very little for the cause of peace. We did our utmost, but perhaps that was not enough.

She looked very fragile but huge strength and courageousness was hidden in her outwardly imponderable figure. I remember how we, jointly with other decent people from the Helsinki Citizens" Assembly, led Armenians and Azerbaijanis across the mine field to meet on the border of the two warring states. We followed our tracks and thus trusted our lives to each other.

I was always impressed by her staunch will, irreconcilability to dishonorable people and her simultaneous willingness to lend an ear to her opponent and try to understand his logic.

Also, all of us were impressed by her vital energy: she wanted to do so much; she had so many plans and ideas....

She was a devoted daughter, a caring sister and a mother understanding of her son and his family. She was proud of her famous family, her friends including the outstanding author Grant Matevosyan. Anahit was a skilful and talented literary translator; she was very responsible and conscientious of everything she undertook to do.

She was wise person and faithful friend.

I shall keep her in my mind forever.

Arzu Abdullayeva