Did the village of Tchingiler really exist?

Good luck trying to find an old map with Tchingiler on it let alone any of the small Armenian villages in the western provinces of the Ottoman Empire back 100 years ago.

First, I tried the libray, then the internet but came up with nothing. Even all of the Armenian history books that discussed the Genocide. Nothing. Sometimes I wondered if it really existed. One day I asked my father if he had any suggestions. He contacted his great aunt and luckily one of my cousins had an old map both in Armenian and English that pointed out exactly where Tchingiler was.

Of course now there is no village by this name and not even a substitute Turkish village at this site as far as I can see. Probably too small to be rated by Rand McNally. I have enclosed a picture of the map in the "Historic Photo" section of the website. If anyone wants an electronic copy would be glad to send to you just cantact me on the website or email me at aperfectarmenian@gmail.com

http://aperfectarmenian.com/historic-inspiration-photos/did-the-village-of-tchingiler-really-exist/

Tavid's Rifle is Unique

I guess I just wasn't satisfied with an average rifle that was in wide use by Armenian freedom fighters like the Mosin-Nagant. So I had to find something a little different for the main character, Tavid. Something that was German made and would only be available, say in western Turkey or Constantinople where there would be German troops and officers stationed to train the Turkish regulars. And wahlah! There it was. The Karabiner 98 manufactured by Mauser (click on photo to enlarge). Now that's a looker!

Specifications:

Caliber: 7.92 x 57 mm

Action: Manually operated, rotating bolt

Length: 740 mm

Weight: 4.09 kg

Capacity 5 round magazine

Muzzle velocity: 760 m/sec

Effective range: 547 yards (wow!)

Life in the Village of Tchingiler: Origins

Its early morning on Christmas day. The night was colder than usual and a light snow has fallen throughout the night. Nonetheless, the crisp air is countered by a strong morning sun and the silence of the northwest winds.

There are nearly eight hundred Armenian homes in and around the village of Tchingiler. Many are still asleep having attended the short midnight mass at Gadar[1], the lone Armenian Cathedral in the center of the village. Other families like your's would be attending the morning mass and are already on their way to church to rejoice and pray.

Tchingiler is a pure Armenian populated village. However, that was not always the case. Established over three hundred years before in 1590, its oldest immigrants were a mix of Turkish and Armenian. Over the years, the Turkish population gradually decreased and by 1830, the village inhabitants were of only Armenian descent. The name of the village was derived from the Turkish word “Delibash Jengnilet” meaning “crazy-head fighter”. It was named after Ouzoum Toros, hero of battles centuries gone by and forgotten, except by a few…

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[1] Armenian; "apex, top of a mountain, perfect, pure".

Great Grandfather's Poem: Guerrilla Warfare in Anatolia

Tavid's grandfather had written a poem when he was in his twenties.

The poem told of freedom fighters (Fedayees) of a generation gone by.

Sleep by day to protect by night

Autonomous upon yourselves

Alone you are with your plight

Be wary of spies, traitors posing as friends

From them stay apart or meet your end

Your weapons are as children

Keep clean, dressed and dry

Kill only when essential

Then to escape you must try

Have reserves and supplies

Hidden for you and your brothers

And a place to hide

They will come in numbers

For the few of you that still have your pride

Life in the Village of Tchingiler: Basterma... "The Breakfast of Champions"

Its the fall of 1910. You're a child in the village of Tchingiler located in the western most aspect of the Ottoman Empire. The early morning sun is just awakening as you are. With sleep still in your eyes, you pull on your one-of-a-kind sheep skin coat to keep the morning frost at bay. Lazily you stumble out and make your way to a primitive barn your father constructed for the chickens. Stealing a half dozen eggs, you carefully walk back to your home. But as you open the door, your nostrils are hit with the aromatic scent of spices being cooked atop a wood burning stove and fruitwoods burning within. The spices are called "Chemen", a mixture of herbs and spices that are used in the curing of "Basterma" (hardcore Armenian beef jerky). Your mother and grandmother are preparing a breakfast of Basterma and eggs. Sometimes other herbs are added to the eggs as well including cilantro, parsley, chives or basil (but you like it plain, just eggs and Basterma). You can still smell the spices coming from your body from your last Basterma meal! It stays with you for days. Luckily everyone in your family (and the village) smell the same! Suddenly there is no more sleep in your eyes and a faint devilish smile appears on your face... Your mother has just handed you a plate of ecstacy and at it base is fresh warm Lavash (flat bread) with a heaping pile of steaming eggs, beef and spices. Now that's the breakfast of champions (-'

Once or twice a year, the village would get together to make Basterma (see picture) Its a big deal as you can see (notice the curing Basterma hanging in the background). Afterwards, everyone relaxes, plays tavloo (backgammon) and drink spirits made from mulberry fruit. What a life, huh?

When is the last time you had a good hit of village quality Basterma?