Seeing a female worker at an Armenian lahmajoun store in the Armenian-populated New Village district of Aleppo would come as a surprise to customers, who would look at Salpi Jabaghjurian and think she was crazy. According to special rules in Aleppo, a woman was supposed to raise children and do house chores. However, how could Salpi explain that she had to work and take care of the family at the same time because of her husband’s heart disease?

Salpi Jabaghjurian: I was the only woman in Aleppo who was working with her husband. My husband, Gokor would start working from 6 a.m., and I would start working from 9 a.m. At first, my friends would say I’m crazy and would tell me to sit at home, make dinner and raise my children. However, nobody knew that my husband was ill and that I was working to help him. But I managed to not pay attention to the conversations. Over time, my friends started praising and encouraging me and were amazed at how I was able to discuss business-related issues with businessmen who would treat me like their sisters. They also understood that if Grigor’s wife was working, it meant that she needed to work,” Salpi told womennet.am.

Working with an oven was truly difficult for the active, lively and hard-working Salpi, and it seemed as though she was losing the softness and tenderness of a woman. However, she overlooked all that and, as she says, “went against the current”. After dropping her son and daughter off at school, making food and doing house chores, Salpi would rush to the lahmajoun factory where there was a need for a fast and skillful worker to maintain the taste and quality. That’s why the lahmajoun made by Grigor and Salpi Jabaghjurians was well-known and in demand in Aleppo.

After the war broke out, like many Syrian-Armenians, the Jabaghjurians also had to migrate to Armenia. In 2012, Salpi’s son, Gaidzag came to visit her sister, Meghri, who was already volunteering in Armenia. When the situation became worse in Syria, their parents also joined them. After being unemployed for nearly six months, the family decided to start their business again. After learning about the wants and needs of the people in the unfamiliar environment, the Jabaghjurians became convinced that the people in Armenia demand lahmajouns as much as the people in Aleppo did. They opened their shop at Khorenatsi Street, worked for a while and later settled in the basement of one of the buildings located at Nalbandyan Street.

For the past two years, citizens preferring to eat tasty lahmajoun rush to 5 Nalbandyan Street. The exotic and pleasant lahmajoun store has also attracted customers with its unique slogan, that is, “Yerkire Yerkir Eh” (This Country Is a Country).

“When we came and decided to start a business, we were often asked why we came and were told that this is not a good country. When we settled, my children would go out in the evenings, talk to others and ask us why people were discontent with the country when everything is clean, peaceful and beautiful and said workers can earn a living. We love our homeland. So, we decided to post the note “Yerkire Yerkir Eh” (This Country Is A Country) on the wall,” says Salpi.

According to Salpi, the people in Armenia like sticking their noses into other people’s businesses, but they really should what they do best. Salpi’s job is to make lahmajoun, and she does it with pleasure and devotion. In Syria she always lived by looking towards the future. She had many plans and dreams, but everything changed. “Who knew that a war would break out in Syria and people would lose their homes, or I would lose my husband? Today, I am living in Armenia and enjoying my life in my country.”

Salpi’s son, 27-year-old Gaidzag, who has been working at his father’s lahmajoun factory since the age of 13 and is already a master, also loves Armenia and doesn’t have any plans to leave the country. According to Gaidzag, one has to adapt to any situation and overcome the difficulties. He agrees that one needs to live in the present. As for the future, time will show.

“I would like to start a family, but time will show when that happens. I’m currently doing business. I am asked whether the girls of Armenia are better than the girls of Syria. I would like to say that there is no difference between the girls of Armenia and the girls of Syria. It’s the 21^st century. The world has gotten smaller,” says Gaidzag.

Gaidzag isn’t thinking of leaving Armenia. He asks where he should go and why he should go when he has a house and a job, friends and wonderful acquaintances. Even if the war in Syria ends, the family still won’t go back. Armenia is their homeland. His father was buried here. They live here and their future is here.

Anush Nersisyan