National, International, Armenia, and Community News and Opinion

The Armenian Reporter | March 28, 2009 17
Armenia
Not your typical Armenian family...
The Hovsepyans
are a testament to
the strength of a
mother’s love
by Nyree Abrahamian
The Hovsepyan family: Back: Hayrapet (26), Hrant (21), Hayk (16), Hakob (19), Anahit (28), Murad (21), Gayane (21). Front:
Susan (19), Serob (11), Gurgen (11), Larissa, Linda (10), Ashot (10). Absent: Ruzan (38), Andranik (26).
YEREVAN – In Yerevan, if you’re
looking for anyone under the age of
15 after school hours, chances are,
you’ll find them in a bak. A bak is a
courtyard/parking lot area usually
shared by several apartment buildings.
Walk through any bak and
you’re sure to encounter children of
all ages who live in the surrounding
buildings playing tag, playing soccer,
or up to some kind of mischief.
The bak by St. Zoravar Church in
central Yerevan is no different, except
for one thing: most of the kids
come from the same family.
Meet the Hovespyan family.
Mother, 67-year-old Larissa, 15 adopted
children from all over the
world, and six grandchildren. The
Hovespyans’ notoriety extends
well beyond their bak. Often featured
in the media, Larissa and her
multiethnic family have become
something of a household name in
Armenia.
It all started in 1982. After having
raised the child of a relative
for several years, Larissa, who
was widowed, decided to adopt a
child. At the time, she explains, she
was a filmmaker, and would often
travel to different parts of the Soviet
Union to make films. From
Lithuania, she adopted her first
child, whom she named Hayrapet,
after her father. “At the time,
there were very few orphanages in
Armenia, because there were very
few orphans,” she explains. “There
wouldn’t be more than 10–20 abandoned
children per year. Lithuania,
which was also a small country with
a population of only 3 million, had
22 orphanages.” Hayrapet, who is
of Russian origin, will be 27 in May.
He is now married and has a family
of his own.
In 1984, she would adopt two
more children from Lithuania: Andranik
(26) and Anahit (28). Andranik
is of Lithuanian origin and Anahit
is believed to be of Karaim origin,
although it is not know for certain.
She was abandoned at Vilnius
airport. Then came Ruzan (38), an
Azerbaijani girl born in one of the
Armenian villages that was densely
populated with Azerbaijanis before
the war broke out and the population
exchange happened.
By this time, the media was
starting to take notice of Larissa
and her ever-growing family. There
were several articles written about
her, and even a film commissioned
by the central Soviet film bureau
in 1988, and as a result, she became
known throughout Yerevan.
She became the unofficial mother
to the troubled youth of the city.
Many kids would come and stay
with her for short periods of time.
Soon after, Larissa tried to return
to Lithuania to adopt the
siblings of one of her adopted
children, but by this time, Lithuania
had already broken with the
Soviet Union, and she was denied
entry. Instead, she went to Minsk,
the capital of Belarus, where she
tried to adopt six children, but was
only successful with three: Murad
(Ukrainian), Hrant (Angolan), and
Gayane (Ethiopian-Russian). All
three are now 21 years old.
Things were going well for the
Hovsepyan family until the early
years of Armenian independence.
Of course, Larissa had her hands
full with laundry, cooking, homework,
and everything in between,
but she liked it that way.
“Under the Soviet Union, my
family was considered a ‘family-orphanage,’”
says the mother of 15.
That meant that the state allotted
them suitable housing, a minibus,
furniture, and all the necessities.
Plus, they had a teacher, a doctor,
a driver, and a cook. In the early
1990s, almost immediately after
independence, the two properties
that the government had provided
for them became the property of
city hall and were subsequently
sold, leaving the Hovsepyan family
homeless. “In those early years,
when there was no electricity, we
had moved temporarily to our driver’s
house in the village,” says Larissa,
“We came back to see that our
home was sold off. We were put out
on the street. Just like that.”
While the family stayed with different
friends, Larissa was on the
lookout for a new home. In 1997,
she found their current groundfloor
apartment and realized that
it was abandoned. So she moved
her family in. Since it is legally
state property, they were evicted
on a few occasions, only to move
back in as soon as they found an
opportune chance. Since 1997, Larissa
has been fighting the government
and knocking on every door
to obtain ownership of the property.
“My father is from Mush and
my mother is from Rostov,” she
says with pride, “Both Mushetsis
and Rostov Armenians are known
for their strength. So you can say
I have a strong base.” Finally, this
March, after a 12-year struggle, she
got the title deed.
Over the years, Larissa would
continue to adopt children and
provide temporary care for anyone
who needed it. Today though some
of the older children have moved
out and formed families of their
own, the bak, kitchen, living room,
and every nook and cranny of the
Hovsepyan household are always
filled with the lively voices of children.
Three of her grandchildren
now live with her as well.
Of course, like any family, there
are fights. “People expect my kids to
be perfect, but we’re a family, aren’t
we? Of course there are fights,” says
Larissa. “The older ones pick on the
younger ones, the younger ones
try to get the older ones in trouble.”
Hrant, who is playing video games
in the corner, shakes his head and
laughs.
At 21, he has become a well-loved
figure not only in his neighborhood,
but all over the country. Hrant is a
singer. Since he was a child, he has
been bringing crowds to their feet
with his renditions of Armenian
folk songs, revolutionary songs,
and the kind of music that gets
people dancing. He is also part of
an Armenian hip hop group called
H.A.Y.Q., whose hit single, “Kami
Pchi” was one of the biggest songs
of summer 2007 in Armenia. He
and sister Gayane, who also loves
to sing but has other career ambitions,
have even wowed audiences
in Los Angeles.
Hrant is known as the jokester
of the family. He constantly has
everyone in stitches. Last year, he
completed his service in the Armenian
military. He was the talk
of the town – an Angolan, with an
Armenian passport, serving in the
Armenian military. “Where would
that Armenian army be if it wasn’t
for that Angolan with an Armenian
passport…” he joked.
Gayane is pursuing a career in
tourism. She is currently studying
tourism and hopes to work in
the field as soon as possible. She is
bright, friendly, and driven, and will
no doubt succeed in the industry.
As we chat, a ball hits the window
from the bak, immediately followed
by a scream of “Mama!” then “Dadik!”
Somebody’s up to something
again and a weary Mama/Dadik
(grandmother) Larissa gets up to
investigate.
The Hovsepyan children are
blessed with a happy home and the
unconditional love of their mother,
but financially, she does not have
the means to support them. In the
Republic of Armenia, there is no
special provision for “family-orphanages”
like there was in the Soviet
Union, so the only support the
government offers her is her meager
pension and an unrealistically
tiny allotment per month for each
child. But this is not even enough
for the basic necessities of food and
clothing.
Larissa used to wash clothes and
do alterations for extra money, but
her age no longer allows it. Most
of the help the family receives is
through individual donors, like
Jirayr Hovespian of Los Angeles,
who met the family 10 years
ago, and immediately bonded with
them because of their shared last
name and the fact that back in Iran,
between him and his cousins, he
grew up in a household with 15 children
too. He is currently visiting
the family and hopes to prepare a
segment on Larissa’s story for CNN
Heroes.
The family also has the backing
of a few generous private enterprises,
such as Ashtarak Kat, which
supplies them with dairy products
every week. Larissa, ever the negotiator,
has also worked out a deal
with the electrical company, so the
company absorbs the cost of their
enormously high electrical bill.
The apartment, especially the
bathroom, is in dire need of repair.
With the help of a builder, Ashtarak
Kat has taken the initial steps in
compiling a breakdown of the renovations
that are needed and their
costs. They hope to present this list
to different construction companies
to see if each one can donate
the supplies for at least one project.
They are also setting up a website
for anyone who wants to donate to
the cause.
Recently, Larissa was diagnosed
with breast cancer. She cannot afford
the pills or the treatment for
her illness. As she speaks of it, her
forehead creases with worry, but
she quickly waves it off and adds
wryly, “The good news is, the government
has upped my pension by
1,500 drams.”
Many people have suggested
that she turn her home into a
certified orphanage or an NGO to
receive more funding, but Larissa
will hear nothing of it. “This is a
family, not an orphanage. These are
my children and I am their mother.
Why should I deprive them of
that?” Times are difficult, but Larissa
is resolute. “I’ll find a way,” she
says, with determination showing
through her creased yet youthful
eyes. “I always find a way.” f