Your Words: Assyrian Martyrs Day in stories, artifacts and community

Yasmeen Altaji | Aug. 7, 2022

Monuments dot global community hubs, relatives sketch out family trees in search of their own histories and generations pass their stories on to those who will succeed them. At the root of it all is a shared story of genocide and persecution.

Each year on Aug. 7, Assyrians around the world honor victims of persecution and genocide. The date marks the anniversary of the Simele Massacre of 1933, when the armed forces of what was then the newly formed Republic of Iraq targeted Assyrians in a five-day attack. Estimates of the number of those killed range from 3,000 to 6,000.

Decades later, in the 1970s, the Assyrian community marked the anniversary Assyrian Martyrs Day to commemorate victims of the 1933 massacre as well as others, including what members of the Assyrian community recognize as the Assyrian Genocide of 1915.

This year, we asked our readers and listeners to share what makes Assyrian Martyrs Day meaningful to them. Here is what they said. 

Editor’s note: The following responses have been edited for length and clarity. The content shared in the responses is that of the named respondent.

“He was never seen or heard from again.”

Pierre Younan Jr., 21, Phoenix, Ariz.

Hormiz Younan (left) holds his eldest son, Eliya, for a family photo

in the mid-1920s.

(Photo courtesy of Pierre Younan Jr.)

My great grandfather, Hormiz Younan, was a victim of the Simele Massacre. Hormiz was my paternal grandfather’s father. Born in the Ottoman Empire in our ancestral village of Mazra’a, he later lived in Baku, Tbilisi, Athens and eventually Iraq, where he had heard there would be opportunities for Assyrians. My grandfather was born in Iraq on a Friday in 1932. The political situation escalated between Iraq’s federal government and Assyrian tribes that refused to disarm—one of them my family’s Tkhumnayeh tribe—until on Aug. 7, 1933 they reached a breaking point. Hormiz went along with some other men of Tkhuma to investigate, but he was never seen or heard from again. My great grandmother, Mariam, having heard about the attacks, picked up as much as she could carry and fled to the Syrian border. In her hurry, she left behind my grandfather, who was less than a year old. He was picked up by someone who knew our family and delivered safely back to the family within the week.

“We are one family, albeit disconnected.”

Max J. Joseph, 36, London

My grandfather and his brother, my great uncle, survived the genocide at the hands of Ottoman Turks and Kurds during the First World War and found themselves in Iraq. It was only 15 years later when my great uncle, now driven by an instinct to protect vulnerable Assyrians against a new wave of violence, was murdered during the Simele Massacre, leaving my grandfather with two families to take care of. This story always serves as a reminder to me that we are one family, albeit disconnected, and that Assyrian Martyrs Day is a day to renew and build those connections with each other by not only mourning the past, but by moving forward together.

“My great uncle was killed in combat at a very young age.”

Dylan Chikko, 21, Lincolnwood, Ill.

Chikko stands in front of a statue of his great uncle in Iraq.

(Photo courtesy of Dylan Chikko)

There’s actually a martyr in my family. My great uncle, Hormuz Malek Chikko, commanded the Assyrian units of the peshmerga back in the day and was killed in combat at a very young age in the 1960s. His older brother, my grandfather Gewargis Malek Chikko, was also a politician and activist back in the day, so our family was pretty persecuted because of that, and they did end up fleeing the country because of it. I did get to go to Iraq earlier this summer and got to see my uncle’s statue and grave in Koregawana, as well as a street that my grandfather had named after him.

“While I will never share this with my great aunts, I would like to illuminate it for subsequent generations.”

Ashley Errington, 39, New Orleans, La,

A letter from Errington’s great-great-grandfather

describes his account of the events of 1915.

(Photo/Haverford West and Milford Haven Telegraph, 1915)

My great uncle, my great aunts, and my grandpa were born and raised as “Americans,” never knowing the full horror of the events that led to the family’s exodus from the old country. 

I returned home to my books and my research and Al Gore’s internet and began a 72-hour frenetic deep dive into the historical record that ended in the unexpected but welcomed discovery of an account written by my great-great-grandfather in July 1915 to Mrs. Sidney J. Rees, a friend in Wales. Mrs. Rees then published it in The Haverfordwest and Milford Haven Telegraph on August 18, 1915. 

While I will never share this with my great aunts, I would like to illuminate it for subsequent generations. On this Assyrian Martyr’s Day, I offer my great-great grandfather Elisha’s own words of what the Khamis family experienced in 1915:

“Their struggles were not made in vain.”

Chris Dankha, 26, Niles, Ill. 

Martyrs Day is the day to pay homage to the victims of many atrocities that Assyrians have faced. Remembering our martyrs is not only vital to the Assyrian grieving process, but towards the strength and stability of our community in the diaspora and the homeland. Assyrians across the world have built strongholds in the countries they fled to and have built community organizations that advocate and fight for our rights to be recognized. Assyrians in the diaspora and in the ancestral homeland will continue to support and speak for the voices of those who have been taken from us on Aug. 7 and every day as a stark reminder that their struggles were not made in vain.

“I can feel in my veins what a hard life my ancestors had.”

Dark Projection is a piece by Margo Sarkisova, an Assyrian Ukrainian visual artist. (Photo/Margo Sarkisova)

Margo Sarkisova, 25, Lviv, Ukraine

I’m Assyrian. Personally, I can feel in my veins what a hard life my ancestors had. It’s my pain. I wish for every person to know about Assyrian Martyrs Day and not support violence and trauma. Remembering victims helps to not recreate [trauma] for the next generations. 

Being Assyrian Ukrainian has had a huge influence on the lens through which I perceive this world. My roots, which have two sides, are traumatized by the war and its effects on the people and on whole generations. If people remember how important every human is, will remember love and solidarity in every moment, we will get up someday in a different world.

“It’s a testament to the Assyrian strength and the Assyrian culture.”

Maicel Barsoum, 30, Skokie, Ill. 

When I hear other people’s stories, while I don’t like hearing what they had to go through, I like that people are keeping history alive. We’re living proof of that.

It’s a sad history, for sure, but it’s also a testament to our strengths over the years, decades, centuries…. It’s a testament to the Assyrian strength and the Assyrian culture. It’s also a glue to the society. Not everyone is a practicing Christian — even if they are, they might follow different denominations. When we remember this shared trauma, it’s something that brings us together. 

“She lived on to share her story.”

Ninorta Kasso, 33, Phoenix, Ariz.

Youarish (left) and Khomar Shebo, Kasso’s grandfather and

great-grandmother, pose for a photo. (Photo courtesy of Ninorta Kasso).

My great-grandmother survived the Assyrian genocide but had to witness the horrendous murder of her husband by the Ottoman Turks. She managed to protect her four sons by sitting down and hiding her young children under her dress while being beaten continuously to get up. She never gave in and was one of the few women who were spared. She lived on to share her story. My great-grandfather was pulled out from his village and, along with other Assyrian men, was lined up in front of a ditch to be assassinated by the Ottoman Turks. My great-grandfather was shot but managed to survive and flee to share his story as an eyewitness of the Assyrian Genocide. My father still remembers when his grandfather would tell him to feel the bullet in his shoulder.

“We need to keep passing on stories of resilience.”

Esther Elia, 28, Albuquerque, N.M.

Elia’s prayer bowl is inscribed with a story from her great-grandmother, a survivor of the Assyrian Genocide.

(Photo/Esther Elia)

We need to keep passing on stories of resilience. Words are powerful, and for the current project I’m doing, the Assyrian Prayer Bowl Archive, I’m making bowls with our words and our stories on them. On the bowl pictured is an oral history passed down by my great-grandmother, a survivor of the Assyrian Genocide:

“Nanajan Elia had just finished reading Psalm 91 when the sound of bullets started in the village. ‘Whoever dwells in the shelter of the most high will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord he is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust…’ And when the gunfire ceased, when the sound of horses was no longer heard, the survivors of Urmia gathered together and counted their dead, and not one of the Elias had been killed.” 

This psalm became our family verse, and this is the story that I am meditating on this Martyrs Day.

“We must look back at our past to inform how we move forward.”

Lisabelle Panossian, 24, Chicago

As an ancient people, we must look back at our past to inform how we move forward and develop a modern Assyrian identity. Remembering and reflecting on what our people have lost fuels me to find my own ways that our community can seek justice and thrive in the modern day. This day also allows me to reflect on ways that intergenerational trauma has permeated my life and family line as genocide survivors — and what I can do to heal those wounds for our next generation’s sake. I do not see this day as simply a day of mourning, but also as a day of pride for how much my own ancestors fought for me to be alive today. I do whatever I can to seek justice for them in my own ways.