The Armenian enclave of Nogorno-Karabakh, (aka Artsakh and since September 2, 1991, the independent Republic of Mountainous Karabakh - RMK) is located inside the Azerbaijan Republic. The history of how this occurred is convoluted. But as the USSR's power disintegrated fighting between Azeris and Armenians for control of this enclave began in February 1988. Until that year Baku, the capital of Azerbaijan had in addition to Azeris a large, diverse population of Russians, Armenians and Jews. But the outbreak of war in the mountains resulted in the expulsion of Azeris from RMK. Armenians living in Baku then experienced Azeri retribution and were forced to begin an exodus from the city. The fact that the Soviet Union favored the Armenians in this conflict also enraged the Azeris. In order to maintain control in Baku the Soviets rolled into the city an impressive military force and by January 1989, Baku was essentially under martial law.*
With its gritty cosmopolitanism and located on the shores of the Caspian Sea I have found Baku most appealing. One walks the streets to the unrelenting beat of Turkic music. Along the sea front there are parks, mostly deserted in winter, flocks of seagulls, a frigate wafting at anchor - a most serene place to jog. My Hartwick College group arrived in Moscow January 3rd, 1989, for a one month tour. It consisted of 25 undergraduates and two curious faculty members. My daughter Jennifer, a senior at Syracuse University was also in the mix. In my original itinerary I had requested three days in Baku - and in Moscow was informed that because of "problems in Baku" it might not be possible to visit there. Perhaps unwisely I renewed my request for Baku. Over time I have thought about why the Soviet authorities granted my request. There were at least two reasons - first the Soviets urgently wanted the appearance of "normalcy" in Baku and the second I have accepted as a personal compliment.
On January 16th we flew into what is today Heydar Aliy International Airport. Then in a modern, bright red "Intourist" bus on a sunny, cool afternoon we began the ride to downtown Baku. Traffic appeared to me to be normal. I had noticed that there were no other Intourist buses at the airport - we were the conspicuous "it". Then within a half mile from the airport in a grassy depression near an intersection appeared a large tank. Its cannon stretched forward the length of the chassis and then some. Everyone on the bus exhaled, Aaaaaaahhhhhhh ! Almost every crossroads on the way downtown was presided over by a tank or an armoured personnel carrier. At the Hotel Intourist on Neftyanikov Prospect there were two APCs parked nearby. Five soldiers on patrol studied us as we unloaded. In the lobby we had a meeting with the Hotel's administration and were informed of the curfew. Everyone had to be off the streets between 9:00 PM and 7:00 AM. Other than that all was normal - Welcome to Baku. The Hotel was not crowded. Our rooms were excellent - some with panoramic views of the Caspian Sea. The only incident that first day - three female students told me of someone hanging around too close. I told them to take his picture - they tried and he was not seen again. That first evening after dinner I experienced an anxiety rush - curfew at 9:00 PM - do I know where my students are? No problem - for three nights all members of the group were in the Hotel well before the appointed hour. As darkness gathered around 8:30 PM all were gathered on balconies overlooking the square below. At 8:50 PM the two APCs below would start their engines emitting a roar and bloom of exhaust. Then they would move - one would block half the street and turn off its engine. The other APC would pull parallel to the first and block the rest of the street. It left it's engine idling thus creating a formidable gate. In the near silence that ensued soldiers could be heard conversing amid the glow of cigarettes.
We spent three pleasant days in Baku. At a well maintained school we met 25 or 30 first and second graders, all scrubbed, smartly dressed, with black hair, dark eyes and totally excited at meeting American tourists. I gave the children and their school a rave review in an interview for Azeri television. At a rug factory there was an interruption of the work day so some of the workers (all women) could meet the visitors. I remember a beautiful Hartwick student - Erica, with black hair and dark eyes sitting with two Azeri women with similar physical attributes - it could have been a family gathering. As I passed nearby the Azeris were saying "You American?" Erica replied "Yes, honest!" "Nnnnnnooooooo!" One afternoon I was returning to the Hotel and noticed three of my group, my daughter and two other young ladies across the street mingling with three Soviet soldiers on foot patrol. The six of them were laughing with heads rearing back and forth in great amusement. I enjoyed the scene for a couple of minutes. An officer coming up the street also saw it, stopped about ten yards ahead of me and yelled something including an obscenity at the sergeant. He saw the officer, came to attention and saluted. Then stone faced the soldiers quickly shooed away the surprised girls like annoying pigeons. My students had plenty of street time in Baku. In the old USSR the streets were where students always learned the most. The Hotel meals were substantial with plenty of good Soviet/Azeri food - students of course complain about all food - I liked it. We departed Baku without incident on January 19th by night train for Tbilisi, Georgia.
Exactly one year later Baku exploded in an anti-Armenian pogrom. During January and February 1990, Armenian residents were murdered, tortured, robbed and humiliated. Reports were that 90 Armenians and 21 Russian soldiers were killed and approximately 700 were injured. *
*See Baku, Wikipedia; Bill Keller, New York Times - 1990; Website of Republic of Mountainous Karabakh.
Samantha
